





















































A Fair Barbarian 


By 

FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT 
Author of 

'That Lass o' Lowrie's," “Haworth' s," “Louisianaetc. 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 
1915 




Copyright, 1880, 

Bv FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT 


All rights reserved. 





CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER 

I. 

Miss Octavia Bassett . 


• 


PAGE 

5 

n. 

“An Investment, anyway 

>> 

• 


14 

hi. 

L’ Argent ville 


• 


24 

IY. 

Lady Theobald . 




31 

Y. 

Lucia .... 




42 

VI. 

Accidental 




51 

yh. 

“ I SHOULD LIKE to SEE MORE OF SLOW- 



BRIDGE ” 




61 

VIII. 

Shares Looking Up 


• 


69 

IX. 

White Muslin 


• 


82 

X. 

Announcing Mr. Barold 


• 


90 

XI. 

A Slight Indiscretion 


• 


101 

XII. 

An Invitation 


• 


109 

XIII. 

Intentions 


• 


118 

XIY. 

A Clerical Visit . 


• 


128 

XV. 

Superior Advantages . 


• 


134 

XYI. 

Croquet .... 


• 


143 

XVII. 

Advantages . 


• 


152 

XVIII. 

Contrast .... 


• 


166 

XIX. 

An Experiment 


• 


172 







CONTENTS. 


4 

CHAPTER 

XX. Peculiar to Nevada . 

XXI. Lord Lansdowne . 

XXII. “You HAVE MADE IT LIVELIER 1 ’ 
XXIII. “May I GO?” 

XXIY. The Garden Party 
XXV. “ Somebody else ” . 

XXYI. “Jack”. 


PAGE 

. 183 
. 197 
. 207 
. 221 
. 230 
. 241 
. 251 


A FAIR BARBARIAN 


CHAPTER I 

mss OCTAVIA BASSETT. 

Slowbbidge had been shaken to its fonn 
iations. 

It may as well be explained, however, at 
the outset, that it would not take much of a 
sensation to give Slowbridge a great shock. 
In the first place, Slowbridge was not used 
to sensations, and was used to going ©n the 
e^en and respectable tenor ©f its way, re¬ 
garding the outside world with private dis¬ 
trust, if not with open disfavor. The new 
mills had been a trial to Slowbridge, — a sore 
trial. On being told of the owners’ plan of 
building them, old Lady Theobald, who was 
the corner-stone of the social edifice of Slew- 
bridge, was said, by a spectator, to havt 



6 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


turned deathly pale with rage; and, on the 
first day of their being opened in working 
order, she had taken to her bed, and re¬ 
mained shut up in her darkened room for a 
week, refusing to see anybody, and even 
going so far as to send a scathing message 
to the curate of St. James, who called in fear 
and trembling, because he was afraid to stay 
away. 

“ With mills and mill-hands ” her ladyship 
announced to Mr. Burmistone, the mill-owner, 
when chance first threw them together, 
‘with mills and mill-hands come murder, 
massacre, and mob law.” And she said it 
go loud, and with so stern an air of convic¬ 
tion, that the two Misses Briarton, who were 
of a timorous and fearful nature, dropped 
their buttered muffins (it was at one of the 
tea-parties which were Slowbridge’s only dis¬ 
sipation), and shuddered hysterically, feeling 
that their fate was sealed, and that they 
might, any night, find three masculine mill- 
hands secreted under their beds, with blud¬ 
geons. But as no massacres took place, and 
the mill-hands were pretty regular in their 
habits, and even went so far as to send their 


MISS OCT A VIA BASSETT. 


1 


children to Lady Theobald’s free school, and 
accepted the tracts left weekly at their doors, 
whether they could read or not, Slowbridge 
gradually recovered from the shock of find¬ 
ing itself forced to exist in close proximity 
to mills, and was just settling itself to sleep 
— the sleep of the just — again, wdien, as I 
have said, it was shaken to its foundations. 

It was Miss Belinda Bassett who received 
the first shock. Miss Belinda Bassett was a 
decorous little maiden lady, who lived in a 
decorous little house on High Street (which 
was considered a very genteel street in Slow¬ 
bridge). She had lived in the same house 
all her life, her father had lived in it, and so 
also had her grandfather. She had gone out, 
to take tea, from its doors two or three times 
a week, ever since she had been twenty; and 
she had had her little tea-parties in its front 
parlor as often as any other genteel Slow¬ 
bridge entertainer. She had risen at seven, 
breakfasted at eight, dined at two, taken tea 
at five, and gone to bed at ten, with such 
regularity for fifty years, that to rise at eight, 
breakfast at nine, dine at three, and take tea 
at six, and go to bed at eleven, would, sh« 


8 


A FAIR BARBARIAN 


was firmly convinced, be but “ to fly in the 
face of Providence,” as she put it, and sign 
her own death-warrant. Consequently, it is 
sasy to imagine what a tremor and excite¬ 
ment seized her when, one afternoon, as she 
*at waiting for her tea, a coach from the Blue 
Lion dashed — or, at least, almost dashed — 
rp to the front door, a young lady got out, 
md the next minute the handmaiden, Mary 
Vnne, threw open the door of the parlor, 
mnouncing, without the least preface, — 

“ Your niece, mum, from ’Meriker.” 

Miss Belinda got up, feeling that her knees 
really trembled beneath her. 

In Slowbridge, America was not approved 
of — in fact, was almost entirely ignored, as 
* country where, to quote Lady Theobald, 
‘the laws were loose, and the prevailing 
sentiments revolutionary.” It was not con 
sidered good taste to know Americans, — 
which was not unfortunate, as there were 
none to know; and Miss Belinda Bassett 
had always felt a delicacy in mentioning her 
®nly brother, who had emigrated to the 
United States in his youth, having first die- 
graced himself by the utterance of the bias- 


MISS OCT A VIA BASSETT 


1 


phemous remark that “ he wanted to get U 
a place where a fellow could stretch himselt 
and not be bullied by a lot of old tabbies.’ 
From the day of his departure, when he had 
left Miss Belinda bathed in tears of anguish, 
she had heard nothing of him; and here 
upon the threshold stood Mary Anne, with 
delighted eagerness in her countenance, re¬ 
peating, — 

“ Your niece, mum, from ’Meriker! ” 

And, with the words, her niece entered. 

Miss Belinda put her hand to her heart. 

The young lady thus announced was the 
prettiest, and at the same time the most ex¬ 
traordinary-looking, young lady she had ever 
seen in her life. Slowbridge contained noth¬ 
ing approaching this niece. Her dress was 
so very stylish that it was quite startling in 
its effect; her forehead was covered down to 
her large, pretty eyes themselves, with curls 
of yellow-brown hair; and her slender throat 
was swathed round and round with a grand 
scarf of black lace. 

She made a step forward, and then stopped, 
looking at Miss Belinda. Her eyes s uddenly 
to Miss Belinda’s amazement, filled with tears 


10 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“ Didn’t you,” she said, — “ oh, dear 
Didn't you get the letter ? ” 

“ The — the letter! ” faltered Miss Belinda 
“ What letter, my — my dear ? ” 

“ Pa’s,” was the answer. “ Oh! I see you 
didn’t.” 

And she sank into the nearest chair, put¬ 
ting her ha’ ds up to her face, and beginning 
to cry outright. 

“I — am Octavia B-bassett,” she said. 
“We were coming to surp-prise you, and 
travel in Europe ; but the mines went wrong, 
and p-pa was obliged to go back to Nevada.” 

“ The mines ? ” gasped Miss Belinda. 

“ S-silver-mines,” wept Octavia. “And 
we had scarcely landed when Piper cabled, 
and pa had to turn back. It was something 
about shares, and he may have lost his last 
dollar.” 

Miss Belinda sank into a chair herself. 

“ Mary Anne,” she said faintly, “ bring 
me a glass of water.” 

Her tone was such that Octavia removed 
her handkerchief from her eyes, and sat up 
to examine her. 

“Are you frightened?” she asked, in 
wme alarm. 


MI8 8 OCT AVIA BASSETT. 


11 


Miss Belinda took a sip of the watei 
brought by her handmaiden, replaced the 
glass upon the salver, and shook her head 
deprecatingly. 

“ Not exactly frightened, my dear,” she 
said, “ but so amazed that I find it difficult 
to — to collect myself.” 

Octavia put up her handkerchief again to 
wipe away a sudden new gush of tears. 

“ If shares intended to go down,” she said, 
“I don’t see why they couldn’t go down 
before we started, instead of waiting until we 
got over here, and then spoiling every thing.” 

“Providence, my dear”— began Miss 
Belinda. 

But she was interrupted by the re-entrance 
of Mary Anne. 

“ The man from the Lion, mum, wants to 
know what’s to be done with the trunks. 
There’s six of ’em, an’ they’re all that ’eavy 
as he says he wouldn’t lift one alone for ten 
shilling.” 

“ Six! ” exclaimed Miss Belinda. “ Whos® 
are they ? ” 

“Mine,” replied Octavia. “Wait a min 
ate. I’ll go out to him.” 


12 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


Miss Belinda was astounded afresh by the 
alacrity with which her niece seemed to for¬ 
get her troubles, and rise to the occasion. 
The girl ran to the front door as if she was 
quite used to directing her own affairs, and 
began to issue her orders. 

“ You will have to get another man,” she 
said. “You might have known that. Go 
and get one somewhere.” 

And when the man went off, grumbling a 
little, and evidently rather at a loss before 
such peremptory coolness, she turned to Miss 
Belinda. 

“ Where must he put them ? she asked. 

It did not seem to have occurred to her 
once that her identity might be doubted, and 
3ome slight obstacles arise before her. 

“I am afraid,” faltered Miss Belinda, 
“ that five of them will have to be put in the 
attic.” 

And in fifteen minutes five of them were 
put into the attic, and the sixth — the big¬ 
gest of all — stood in the trim little spare 
chamber, and pretty Miss Octavia had sunk 
into a puffy little chintz-covered easy-chair, 
while her newly found relative stood before 


MISS OCT A VIA BASSETT, 


18 


her, making the most laudable efforts to re¬ 
cover her equilibrium, and not to feel as if 
her head were spinning round and round. 




u 


A FAIR BAMBABLAB 


CHAPTER II. 

*' AN INVESTMENT, AMWAY.” 

The natural result of these efforts was, that 
Miss Belinda was moved to shed a few tears. 

“ I hope you will excuse my being too star¬ 
tled to say I was glad to see you,” she said. 
“ I have not seen my brother for thirty years, 
and I was very fond of him.” 

“He said you were,” answered Octavia; 
“and he was very fond of you too. He 
didn’t write to you, because he made up his 
mind not to let you hear from him until he 
was a rich man; and then he thought he 
would wait until he could come home, and 
surprise you. He was awfully disappointed 
when he had to go back without seeing you.” 

“ Poor, dear Martin! ” wept Miss Belinda 
gently. “ Such a journey! ” 

Octavia opened her charming eyes in sur¬ 
prise. 

“Oh, he’ll come back again!” she said. 


AN INVESTMENT, ANYWAY. 15 

“And he doesn’t mind the journey. The 
journey is nothing, you know.” 

“Nothing!” echoed Miss Belinda. “A 
voyage across the Atlantic no ^‘ag? When 
one thinks of the danger, my dear ” — 

Octavia’s eyes opened a shade wider. 

“We have made the trip to the States, 
across the Isthmus, twelve times, and that 
takes a month,” she remarked. “So we 
don’t think ten days much.” 

“ Twelve times! ” said Miss Belinda, quite 
appalled. “ Dear, dear, dear! ” 

And for some moments she could do 
nothing but look at her young relative in 
doubtful wonder, shaking her head with ac¬ 
tual sadness. 

But she finally recovered herself, with a 
little start. 

“ What am I thinking of,” she exclaimed 
remorsefully, “to let you sit here in this 
way? Pray excuse me, my dear. You see 
I am so upset.” 

She left her chair in a great hurry, and 
proceeded to embrace her young guest ten¬ 
derly, though with a little timorousness. 
The young lady submitted to the caress with 
much composure. 


16 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“ Did I upset you ? ” she inquired calmly. 

The fact was, that she could not see whj 
the simple advent of a relative from Nevada 
should seem to have the effect of an earth¬ 
quake, and result in tremor, confusion, and 
tears. It was true, she herself had shed a 
tear or so, but then her troubles had been 
accumulating for several days; and she had 
not felt confused yet. 

When Miss Belinda went down-stairs to 
superintend Mary Anne in the tea-making, 
and left her guest alone, that young person 
glanced about her with a rather dubious 
expression. 

“ It is a queer, nice little place,” she said. 
“ But I don’t wonder that pa emigrated, if 
they always get into such a flurry about little 
things. I might have been a ghost.” 

Then she proceeded to unlock the big 
trunk, and attire herself. 

Down-stairs, Miss Belinda was wavering 
between the kitchen and the parlor, in a 
kindly flutter. 

“ Toast some muffins, Mary Anne, and 
bring in the cold roast fowl,” she said. “ And 
I will put out vine irawberry-jam, and 


AN INVESTMENT, ANYWAY. 17 

some of the preserved ginger. Dear me. 
Just to think how fond of preserved ginger 
poor Martin was, and how little of it he was 
allowed to eat I There really seems a special 
Providence in my having such a nice stock 
of it in the house when his daughter comes 
home.” 

In the course of half an hour every thing 
was in readiness; and then Mary Anne, who 
had been sent up-stairs to announce the fact, 
came down in a most remarkable state of 
delighted agitation, suppressed ecstasy and 
amazement exclaiming aloud in every fea 
ture. 

“ She’s dressed, mum,” she announced, 
“ an’ ’ll be down immediate,” and retired to 
a shadowy comer of the kitchen passage, 
that she might lie in wait unobserved. 

Miss Belinda, sitting behind the tea-ser¬ 
vice, heard a soft, flowing, silken rustle 
sweeping down the staircase, and across the 
hall, and then her niece entered. 

“Don’t you think I’ve dressed pretty 
quick ? ” she said, and swept across the little 
parlor, and sat down in her place, with the 
calmest and most unconscious air in the 
world. 


18 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


There was in Slowbridge but one dress* 
jiaking establishment. The head of the 
establishment — Miss Letitia Chiekie — de» 
signed the costumes of every woman in 
Slowbridge, from Lady Theobald down. 
There were legends that she received her 
patterns from London, and modified them to 
suit the Slowbridge taste. Possibly this was 
true; but in that case her labors as modifier 
must have been severe indeed, since they 
were so far modified as to be altogether un¬ 
recognizable when they left Miss Chickie’s 
establishment, and were borne home in tri¬ 
umph to the houses of her patrons. The 
taste of Slowbridge was quiet, — upon this 
Slowbridge prided itself especially, — and, at 
the same time, tended toward economy. 
When gores came into fashion, Slowbridge 
clung firmly, and with some pride, to sub¬ 
stantial breadths, which did not cut good 
silk into useless strips which could not be 
utilized in after-time; and it was only when, 
after a visit to London, Lady Theobald 
walked into St. James’s one Sunday with 
two gores on each side, that Miss Chiekie 
regretfully put scissors into her first breadth. 


AN INVESTMENT, ANYWAY. 19 


Each matronly member of good society pos¬ 
sessed a substantial silk gown of some sober 
color, which gown, having done duty at two 
years’ tea-parties, descended to the grade of 
“second-best,” and so descended, year by 
year, until it disappeared into the dim die 
tance of the past. The young ladies had 
their white muslins and natural flowers, 
which latter decorations invariably collapsed 
in the course of the evening, and were worn 
during the latter half of any festive occasion 
in a flabby and hopeless condition. Miss 
Chickie made the muslins, festooning and 
adorning them after designs emanating from 
her fertile imagination. If they were a little 
short in the body, and not very generously 
proportioned in the matter of train, there 
was no rival establishment to sneer, and 
Miss Chickie had it all her own way; and, 
at least, it could never be said that Slow- 
bridge was vulgar or overdressed. 

Judge, then, of Miss Belinda Bassett’s con¬ 
dition of mind when her fair relative took her 
seat before her. 

What the material of her niece’s dress was, 
Miss Belinda could not have told. It was a 


20 


A FAIR BARBARIAN 


silken and soft fabric of a pale blue color; it 
clung to the slender, lissome young figure 
like a glove; a fan-like train of great length 
almost covered the hearth-rug; there were 
plaitings and frillings all over it, and yards 
of delicate satin ribbon cut into loops in the 
most recklessly extravagant manner. 

Miss Belinda saw all this at the first glance, 
as Mary Anne had seen it, and, like Mary 
Anne, lost her breath; but, on her second 
glance, she saw something more. On the 
pretty, slight hands were three wonderful, 
sparkling rings, composed of diamonds set in 
clusters: there were great solitaires in the 
neat little ears, and the thickly-plaited lace 
at the throat was fastened by a diamond 
clasp. 

“My dear,” said Miss Belinda, clutching 
helplessly at the teapot, “ are you — surely 
it is a — a little dangerous to wear such — 
such priceless ornaments on ordinary occa 
sions.” 

Octavia stared at her for a moment un- 
eomprehendingly. 

“ Your jewels, I mean, my love,” fluttered 
Miss Belinda. “ Surely you don’t wear them 


AN INVESTMENT , INTWAT. 21 


often. I declare, it quite frightens me te 
think of having such things in the house.” 

“ Does it ? ” said Octavia. “ That’s queer.” 

And she looked puzzled for a moment 
Again. 

Then she glanced down at her rings. 

“I nearly always wear these,” she re¬ 
marked. “Father gave them to me. He 
gave me one each birthday for three years. 
He says diamonds are an investment, any¬ 
way, and I might as well have them. These,” 
touching the ear-rings and clasp, “ were given 
to my mother when she was on the stage. 
A lot of people clubbed together, and bought 
them for her. She was a great favorite.” 

Miss Belinda made another clutch at the 
handle of the teapot. 

“ Your mother! ” she exclaimed faintly. 
“ On the — did you say, on the ” — 

“Stage,” answered Octavia. “San Fran* 
cisco. Father married her there. She was 
awfully pretty. I don’t remember her. She 
died when I was born. She was only nine¬ 
teen.” 

The utter calmness, and freedom from em¬ 
barrassment, with which these announcements 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


were made, almost shook Miss Belinda’s faith 
in her own identity. Strange to say, until 
this moment she had scarcely given a thought 
to her brother’s wife; and to find herself 
sitting in her own genteel little parlor, be¬ 
hind her own tea-service, with her hand upon 
tier own teapot, hearing that this wife had 
been a young person who had been “ a great 
favorite ” upon the stage, in a region peopled, 
as she had been led to suppose, by gold- 
diggers and escaped convicts, was almost too 
much for her to support herself under. But 
she did support herself bravely, when she 
had time to rally. 

“Help yourself to some fowl, my dear,” 
she said hospitably, even though very faintly 
indeed, “ and take a muffin.” 

Octavia did so, her over-splendid hands 
flashing in the light as she moved them. 

“ American girls always have more things 
than English girls,” she observed, with ad¬ 
mirable coolness. “ They dress more. I have 
been told so by girls who have been in 
Europe. And I have more things than most: 
American girls. Father had more money 
than most people ; that was one reason ; and 


AN INVESTMENT , ANYWAY. 23 


he spoiled me, I suppose. He had no one 
else to give things to, and he said I should 
have every thing I took a fancy to. He 
often laughed at me for buying things, but 
he never said I shouldn’t buy them.” 

“ He was always generous,” sighed Miss 
Belinda. “ Poor, dear Martin! ” 

Octavia scarcely entered into the spirit of 
this mournful sympathy. She was fond of 
her father, but her recollections of him were 
not pathetic or sentimental. 

“ He took me with him wherever he 
went,” she proceeded. “ And we had a 
teacher from the States, who travelled with 
us sometimes. He never sent me away from 
him. I wouldn’t have gone if he had wanted 
to send me — and he didn’t want to,” she 
added, with a satisfied little laugh. 


u 


A FAIR BARBARIAN 


CHAPTER III. 

l’argentville. 

Miss Belinda sat, looking at her niece 
with a sense of being at once stunned and 
fascinated. To see a creature so young, so 
pretty, so luxuriously splendid, and at the 
same time so simply and completely at ease 
with herself and her surroundings, was a 
revelation quite beyond her comprehension. 
The best-bred and nicest girls Slowbridge 
could produce were apt to look a trifle con¬ 
scious and timid when they found themselves 
attired in the white muslin and floral deco¬ 
rations ; but this slender creature sat in hei 
gorgeous attire, her train flowing over the 
modest carpet, her rings flashing, her ear- 
pendants twinkling, apparently entirely ob¬ 
livious of, or indifferent to, the fact that all 
her belongings were sufficiently out of place 
to be startling beyond measure. 

Her chief characteristic, however, seemed 


L'ARGENTVILLE . 


26 


to be her excessive frankness. She did not 
hesitate at all to make the most remarkable 
statements concerning her own and her fa¬ 
ther’s past career. She made them, too, 
as if there was nothing unusual about them. 
Twice, in her childhood, a luckless specula¬ 
tion had left her father penniless; and once 
he had taken her to a Californian gold- 
diggers’ camp, where she had been the only 
female member of the somewhat reckless 
community. 

“But they were pretty good-natured, and 
made a pet of me,” she said; “ and we did 
not stay very long. Father had a stroke of 
luck, and we went away. I was sorry when 
we had to go, and so were the men. They 
made me a present of a set of jewelry made 
out of the gold they had got themselves. 
There is a breastpin like a breastplate, and a 
necklace like a dog-collar: the bracelets tire 
my arms, and the ear-rings pull my ears; but 
I wear them sometimes — gold girdle and 
all.” 

“Did I,” inquired Miss Belinda timidly 
“ did I understand you to say, my dear, that 
your father’s business was in some way con¬ 
nected with silver-mining ? ” 


26 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“It is silver-mining,” was the response 
“ He owns some mines, you know ” — 
“Owns? 5, said Miss Belinda, much flut¬ 
tered ; “ owns some silver-mines ? He must 
be a very rich man, — a very rich man. I 
declare, it quite takes my breath away.” 

“ Oh! he is rich,” said Octavia; “ awfully 
rich sometimes. And then again he isn’t. 
Shares go up, you know; and then they go 
down, and you don’t seem to have any thing. 
But father generally comes out right, because 
he is lucky, and knows how to manage.” 

“ But — but how uncertain! ” gasped Miss 
Belinda: “I should be perfectly miserable, 
r'oor, dear Mar ” — 

“ Oh, no, you wouldn’t! ” said Octavia: 
“you’d get used to it, and wouldn’t mind 
much, particularly if you were lucky as 
father is. There is every thing in being 
lucky, and knowing how to manage. When 
we first went to Bloody Gulch ” — 

“My dear!” cried Miss Belinda, aghast. 
“I — I beg of you” — 

Octavia stopped short: she gazed at Miss 
Belinda in bewilderment, as she had done 
several times before. 


L’ARQENTVILLX. 


97 


“Is any thing the matter?” she inquired 
placidly. 

“My dear love,” explained Miss Belinda 
innocently, determined at least to do her 
duty, “it is not customary in—in Slow- 
bridge, — in fact, I think I may say in Eng¬ 
land,— to use such — such exceedingly — I 
don’t want to wound your feelings, my dear, 
— but such exceedingly strong expressions I 
I refer, my dear, to the one which began 
with a B. It is really considered profane, as 
well as dreadful beyond measure.” 

“ 4 The one which began with a B,’ ” 
repeated Octavia, still staring at her. “ That 
is the name of a place; but I didn’t name it, 
you know. It was called that, in the first 
place, because a party of men were surprised 
and murdered there, while they were asleep 
in their camp at night. It isn’t a very nice 
name, of course, but I’m not responsible for 
it; and besides, now the place is growing, 
they are going to call it Athens or Magnolia 
Vale. They tried L’Argentville for a while; 
but people would call it Lodginville, and no 
body liked it.” 

“ I trust you never lived there,” said Miss 


38 


A FAIR BARBARIAN, 


Belinda. “ I beg your pardon for being sc 
horrified, but I really could not refrain from 
starting when you spoke; and I cannot help 
hoping you never lived there.” 

“ I live there now, when I am at home,” 
Octavia replied. “ The mines are there; and 
father has built a house, and had the furni¬ 
ture brought on from New York.” 

Miss Belinda tried not to shudder, but 
almost failed. 

“Won’t you take another muffin, my love ? ” 
she said, with a sigh. “ Do take another 
muffin.” 

“ No, thank you,” answered Octavia; and 
it must be confessed that she looked a little 
bored, as she leaned back in her chair, and 
glanced down at the train of her dress. It 
seemed to her that her simplest statement or 
remark created a sensation. 

Having at last risen from the tea-table, she 
wandered to the window, and stood there, 
looking out at Miss Belinda’s flower-garden. 
It was quite a pretty flower-garden, and a 
good-sized one considering the dimensions 
of the house. There were an oval grass-plot, 
divers gravel paths, heart and diamond 


L'ARQENTVILLE. 


213 

shaped beds aglow with brilliant annuals, a 
great many rose-bushes, several laburnums 
and lilacs, and a trim hedge of holly sur¬ 
rounding it. 

“ I think I should like to go out and walk 
around there,” remarked Octavia, smothering 
a little yawn behind her hand. “Suppose 
we go — if you don’t care.” 

“Certainly, my dear,” assented Miss Be¬ 
linda. “But perhaps,” with a delicately 
dubious glance at her attire, “you would 
like to make some little alteration in your 
dress — to put something a little — dark 
over it.” 

Octavia glanced down also. 

“ Oh, no! ” she replied: “ it will do well 
enough. I will throw a scarf over my head, 
though; not because I need it,” unblushing- 
ly, “but because I have a lace one that is 
very becoming.” 

She went up to her room for the article in 
question, and in three minutes was down 
again. When she first caught sight of her, 
Miss Belinda found herself obliged to clear 
her throat quite suddenly. What Slow 
bridge would think of seeing such a toilet 


80 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


in her front garden, upon an ordinary ooea 
sion, she could not imagine. The scarf truly 
was becoming. It was a long affair of rich 
white lace, and was thrown over the girl’s 
head, wound around her throat, and the ends 
tossed over her shoulders, with the most pic¬ 
turesque air of carelessness in the world. 

“You look quite like a bride, my dear 
Octavia,” said Miss Belinda. “We are 
scarcely used to such things in Slowbridge.” 

But Octavia only laughed a little. 

“ I am going to get some pink roses, and 
fasten the ends with them, when we get into 
the garden,” she said. 

She stopped for this purpose at the first 
rose-bush they reached. She gathered half 
a dozen slender-stemmed, heavy-headed buds, 
and, having fastened the lace with some, was 
carelessly placing the rest at her waist, when 
Miss Belinda started violently. 


LADY THEOBALD. 


Si 


CHAPTER IV. 

LADY THEOBALD. 

“Oh, 4ear!” she exclaimed nervously, 
“ there is Lady Theobald.” 

Lady Theobald, having been making calls 
of state, was returning home rather later 
than usual, when, in driving up High Street, 
her eye fell upon Miss Bassett’s garden. 
She put up her eyeglasses, and gazed through 
them severely; then she issued a mandate 
to her coachman. 

M Dobson,” she said, “ drive more slowly.” 

She could not believe the evidence of her 
own eyeglasses. In Miss Bassett’s garden 
she saw a tall girl, “ dressed,” as she put it, 
“like an actress,” her delicate dress trailing 
upon the grass, a white lace scarf about her 
head and shoulders, roses in that scarf roses 
at her waist. 

“Good heavens!” she exclaimed: “is 
Belinda Bassett giving a party, without sc 
much as mentioning it to me ? ” 


82 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


Then she issued another mandate. 

“Dobson,” she said, “drive faster, and 
drive me to Miss Bassett’s.” 

Miss Belinda came out to the gate to meet 
her, quaking inwardly. O eta via simply 
turned slightly where she stood, and looked 
at her ladyship, without any pretence of con¬ 
cealing her curiosity. 

Lady Theobald bent forward in her landau. 

“ Belinda,” she said, “ how do you do ? I 
did not know you intended to introduce gar¬ 
den-parties into Slowbridge.” 

“Dear Lady Theobald” — began Miss 
Belinda. 

“ Who is that young person ? ” demanded 
her ladyship. 

“ She is poor dear Martin’s daughter,” 
answered Miss Belinda. “She arrived to¬ 
day— from Nevada, where—where it ap¬ 
pears Martin has been very fortunate, and 
owns a great many silver-mines ” — 

“ A 4 great many ’ silver-mines! ” cried 
Lady Theobald. “Are you mad, Belinda 
Bassett? I am ashamed of you. At youx 
time of life too! ” 

Miss Belinda almost shed tears. 


LADY THEOBALD. 


38 


“She said ‘some silver-mines,’ I am sore,’ 
she faltered; “ for I remember hew aston¬ 
ished and bewildered I was. The fact is, 
that she is such a very singular girl, and has 
told me so many wonderful things, in the 
strangest, cool way, that I am quite uncer¬ 
tain of myself. Murderers, and gold-diggers, 
and silver-mines, and camps full of men with¬ 
out women, making presents of gold girdles 
and dog-collars, and ear-rings that drag your 
ears down. It is enough to upset any one.” 

“ I should think so,” responded her lady 
ship. “ Open the carriage-door, Belinda, 
and let me get out.” 

She felt that this matter must be inquired 
into at once, and not allowed to go too far. 
She had ruled Slowbridge too long to allow 
such innovations to remain uninvestigated. 
She would not be likely to be “upset,” at 
least. She descended from her landau, with 
her most rigorous air. Her stout, rich black 
moire-antique gown rustled severely; the 
yellow ostrich feather in her bonnet waved 
majestically. (Being a brunette, and Lady 
Theobald, she wore yellow.) As she tramped 
up the gravel walk, she held up he dress 


&4 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


with both hands, as an example to vulgar 
and reckless young people who wore train* 
and left them to take care of themselves. 

Octavia was arranging afresh the bunch of 
long-stemmed, swaying buds at her waist, 
and she was giving all her attention to her 
task when her visitor first addressed her. 

“How do you do?” remarked her lady¬ 
ship, in a fine, deep voice. 

Miss Belinda followed her meekly. 

“ Octavia,” she explained, “ this is Lady 
Theobald, whom you will be very glad to 
know. She knew your father.” 

“ Yes,” returned my lady, “ years ago. He 
has had time to improve since then. How 
do you do ? ” 

Octavia’s limpid eyes rested serenely upon 
her. 

“How do you do?” she said, rather in¬ 
differently. 

“ You are from Nevada ? ” asked Lady 
Theobald. 

“Yes.” 

“ It is not long since you left there ? ” 

Octavia smiled faintly. 

“ Do I look like that ? ” she inquired. 


LADY THEOBALD. 


u 


* Like what ? ” said my lady. 

“ As if I had not long lived in a civilized 
place. I dare say I do, because it is true 
that I haven’t.” 

“You don’t look like an English girl,” 
remarked her ladyship. 

Octavia smiled again. She looked at the 
yellow feather and stout moire antique dress, 
but quite as if by accident, and without any 
mental deduction; then she glanced at the 
rosebuds in her hand. 

“ I suppose I ought to be sorry for that,” 
she observed. “I dare say I shall be in 
time — when I have been longer away from 
Nevada.” 

“I must confess,” admitted her ladyship, 
and evidently without the least regret or 
embarrassment, “ I must confess that I don’t 
know where Nevada is.” 

“ It isn’t in Europe,” replied Octavia, with 
a soft, light laugh. “ You know that, don’t 
you?” 

The words themselves sounded to Lady 
Theobald like the most outrageous impu¬ 
dence; but when she looked at the pretty, 
lovelock-shaded face, she was staggered — 


36 


A FAIR BABBABUN. 


the look it wore was such a very innocent 
and undisturbed one. At the moment, the 
only solution to be reached seemed to be 
that this was the style of young people in 
Nevada, and that it was ignorance and not 
insolence she had to do battle with — which, 
indeed, was partially true. 

“I have not had any occasion to inquire 
where it is situated, so far,” she responded 
firmly. “ It is not so necessary for English 
people to know America as it is for Ameri¬ 
cans to know England.” 

“Isn’t it?” said Octavia, without any 
great show of interest. “ Why not ? ” 

“ For — for a great many reasons it would 
be fatiguing to explain,” she answered cour¬ 
ageously. “ How is your father ? ” 

“ He is very sea-sick now,” was the smiling 
answer, — “ deadly sea-sick. He has been 
out just twenty-four hours.” 

“ Out ? What does that mean ? ” 

“Out on the Atlantic. He was called 
back suddenly, and obliged to leave me. 
That is why I came here alone.” 

“Pray do come into the parlor, and sit 
down, dear Lady Theobald,” ventured Mis« 
Belinda. “ Octavia ” — 


LADY THEOBALD. 


37 


u Don’t you think it is nicer out here?” 
said Octavia. 

“ My dear,” answered Miss Belinda. 
“ Lady Theobald ”— She was really quite 
shocked. 

“ Ah I ” interposed Octavia. “ I only 
thought it was cooler.” 

She preceded them, without seeming to 
be at all conscious that she was taking the 
lead. 

“ You had better pick up your dress, Miss 
Octavia,” said Lady Theobald rather acidly. 

The girl glanced over her shoulder at ihe 
length of train sweeping the path, but she 
made no movement toward picking it up. 

“ It is too much trouble, and one has to 
duck down so,” she said. “ It is bad enough 
to have to keep doing it when one is on the 
street. Besides, they would never wear out 
if one took too much care of them.” 

When they went into the parlor, and sat 
down, Lady Theobald made excellent use of 
her time, and managed to hear again all that 
had tried and bewildered Miss Belinda. She 
had no hesitation in asking questions boldly; 
she considered it her privilege to do so • she 


A FAIR BARBARIAN 


88 

had catechised Slowbridge for forty years, 
and meant to maintain her rights until Time 
played her the knave’s trick of disabling 
her. 

In half an hour she had heard about the 
silver-mines, the gold-diggers, and L’Argent- 
ville; she knew that Martin Bassett was a 
millionnaire, if the news he had heard had not 
left him penniless; that he would return to 
England, and visit Slowbridge, as soon as 
his affairs were settled. The precarious 
condition of his finances did not seem to 
cause Octavia much concern. She had 
asked no questions when he went away, 
and seemed quite at ease regarding the 
future. 

“ People will always lend him money, and 
then he is lucky with it,” she said. 

She bore the cateonising very well. Her 
replies were frequently rather trying to her 
interlocutor, but she never seemed troubled, 
or ashamed of any thing she had to say; and 
she wore, from first to last, that inscrutably 
innocent and indifferent little air. 

She did not even show confusion when 
Lady Theobald, on going away, made her 
farewell comment: — 


LADY THEOBALD. 


89 


“You are a very fortunate girl to own 
such jewels,” she said, glancing critically at 
the diamonds in her ears; “ but if you take 
my advice, my dear, you will put them away, 
and save them until you are a married woman. 
It is not customary, on this side of the water, 
for young girls to wear such things—par¬ 
ticularly on ordinary occasions. People will 
think you are odd.” 

“ It is not exactly customary in America,” 
replied Octavia, with her undisturbed smile. 
“There are not many girls who have such 
things. Perhaps they would wear them if 
they had them. I don’t care a very great 
deal about them, but I mean to wear them.” 

Lady Theobald went away in a dudgeon. 

“ You will have to exercise your authority, 
Belinda, and make her put them away,” she 
said to Miss Bassett. “It is absurd — be¬ 
sides being atrocious.” 

“ Make her! ” faltered Miss Bassett. 

“Yes, ‘make her’ — though I see you will 
have your hands full. I never heard such 
romancing stories in my life. It is just what 
one might expect from your brother Mai> 


4C 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


When Miss Bassett returned, Octavia was 
standing before the window, watching the 
carriage drive away, and playing absently 
with one of her ear-rings as she did so. 

“ What an old fright she is! ” was her first 
guileless remark. 

Miss Belinda quite bridled. 

“My dear,” she said, with dignity, “no 
one in Slowbridge would think of applying 
such a phrase to Lady Theobald.” 

Octavia turned around, and looked at 
her. 

“But don’t you think she is one?” she 
exclaimed. “Perhaps I oughtn’t to have 
said it; but you know we haven’t any thing 
as bad as that, even out in Nevada — really! ” 

“ My dear,” said Miss Belinda, “ different 
countries contain different people; and in 
Slowbridge wt have our standards,” — her 
best cap trembling a little with her repressed 
excitement. 

But Octavia did not appear overwhelmed 
by the existence of the standards in ques¬ 
tion. She turned to the window again. 

“Well, anyway,” she said, “I think it 
tras pretty cool in her to order me to take 


LADY THEOBALD. 


41 


off my diamonds, and save them until I was 
married. How does she know whether I 
mean to be married, or not ? I don’t know 
that I care about it.” 


4 ? 


A FAIR BARBARIAN 


CHAPTER V. 

LUCIA. 

In this manner Slowbridge received the 
shock which shook it to its foundations, and 
it was a shock from which it did not recover 
for some time. Before ten o’clock the next 
morning, everybody knew of the arrival of 
Martin Bassett’s daughter. 

The very boarding-school (Miss Pilcher’s 
select seminary for young ladies, “ com¬ 
bining the comforts of a home,” as the 
circular said, “with all the advantages of 
genteel education ”) was on fire with it, 
highly colored versions of the stories told 
being circulated from the “ first class ” down¬ 
ward, even taking the form of an Indian 
princess, tattooed blue, and with difficulty 
restrained from indulging in war-whoops,— 
which last feature so alarmed little Miss Big- 
bee, aged seven, that she retired in fear and 
trembling, and shed tears under the bed 


LUCIA. 


43 


clothes; her terror and anguish being much 
increased by the stirring recitals of scalping- 
stories by pretty Miss Phipps, of the first 
class — a young person who possessed a vivid 
imagination, and delighted in romances of 
a tragic turn. 

“ I have not; the slightest doubt,” saic 
Miss Phipps, “ that when she is at home she 
lives in a wampum.” 

“ What is a wampum ? ” inquired one of 
her admiring audience. 

“ A tent,” replied Miss Phipps, with some 
impatience. “I should think any goose 
would know that. It is a kind of tent hung 
with scalps and — and — moccasins, and — 
lariats — and things of that sort.” 

“ I don’t believe that is the right name for 
it,” put in Miss Smith, who was a pert mem¬ 
ber of the third class. 

“Ah!” commented Miss Phipps, “that 
was Miss Smith who spoke, of course. We 
may always expect information from Miss 
Smith. I trust that I may be allowed to 
*ay that I think I have a brother ” — 

“He doesn’t know much about it, if he 
mils a wigwam a wampum,” interposed Miss 


44 


A FA IB BABBABIAN, 


Smith, with still greater pertness. “ I have 
a brother who knows better than that, if I 
am only in the third class.” 

For a moment Miss Phipps appeared to be 
meditating. Perhaps she was a trifle dis¬ 
comfited; but she recovered herself after a 
brief pause, and returned to the charge. 

“Well,” she remarked, “perhaps it is a 
wigwam. Who cares if it is ? And at any 
rate, whatever it is, I haven’t the slightest 
doubt that she lives in one.” 

This comparatively tame version was, how¬ 
ever, entirely discarded when the diamonds 
and silver - mines began to figure more 
largely in the reports. Certainly, pretty, 
overdressed, jewel-bedecked Octavia gave 
Slowbridge abundant cause for excitement. 

After leaving her, Lady Theobald drove 
home to Oldclough Hall, rather out of 
humor. She had been rather out of humor 
for some time, having never quite recovered 
from her anger at the daring of that cheerful 
builder of mills, Mr. John Burmistone. Mr. 
Burmistone had been one innovation, and 
Octavia Bassett was another. She had not 
been able to manage Mr. Burmistone, and 


A 


LUCIA. 


45 


she was not at all sure that she had managed 
Octavia Bassett. 

She entered the dining-room with an omin¬ 
ous frown on her forehead. 

At the end of the table, opposite her own 
seat, was a vacant chair, and her frown deep¬ 
ened when she saw it. 

“ Where is Miss Gaston ? ” she demanded 
of the servant. 

Before the man had time to reply, the 
door opened, and a girl came in hurriedly, 
with a somewhat frightened air. 

“ I beg pardon, grandmamma dear,” she 
said, going to her seat quickly. “ I did not 
know you had come home.” 

“We have a dinner-hour,” announced her 
ladyship, “ and I do not disregard it.” 

“ I am very sorry,” faltered the culprit. 

“ That is enough, Lucia,” interrupted Lady 
Theobald; and Lucia dropped her eyes, and 
began to eat her soup with nervous haste, 
[n fact, she was glad to escape so easily. 

She was a very pretty creature, with 
brown eyes, a soft white skin, and a slight 
figure with a reed-like grace. A great quan¬ 
tity of brown hair was twisted into an ugly 


46 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


coil on the top of her delicate little head, 
and she wore an ugly muslin gown of Miss 
Chickie’s make. 

For some time the meal progressed in 
dead silence; but at length Lucia ventured 
to raise her eyes. 

“ I have been walking in Slowbridge, 
grandmamma,’’ she said, “and I met Mr. 
Burmistone, w;ho told me that Miss Bassett 
has a visitor — a young lady from America.” 

Lady Theobald laid her knife and fork 
down deliberately. 

“ Mr. Burmistone ? ” she said. “ Did I un¬ 
derstand you to say that you stopped on the 
roadside to converse with Mr. Burmistone ? ” 

Lucia colored up to her delicate eyebrows 
and above them. 

“ I was trying to reach a flower growing 
on the bank,” she said, “ and he was so kind 
as to stop to get it for me. I did not know 
he was near at first. And then he inquired 
how you were — and told me he had just 
heard about the young lady.” 

“ Naturally! ” remarked her ladyship sar¬ 
donically. “ It is as I anticipated it would 
b$. We shall find Mr. Burmistone at cmi 


LUCIA. 


47 


elbows upon all occasions. And he will not 
allow himself to be easily driven away. He 
is as determined as persons of his class 
usually are.” 

“ O grandmamma! ” protested Lucia, 
with innocent fervor. “I really do not 
think he is — like that at all. I could not 
help thinking he was very gentlemanly and 
kind. He is so much interested in your 

school, and so anxious that it should pros- 

_, _ >> 

per. 

“May I ask,” inquired Lady Theobald, 
“ how long a time this generous expression 
of his sentiments occupied? Was this the 
reason of your forgetting the dinner-hour ? ” 

“We did not ” — said Lucia guiltily : “ic 
did not take many minutes. I — I do not 
think that made me late.” 

Lady Theobald dismissed this paltry ex¬ 
cuse with one remark, — a remark made in 
the deep tones referred to once before. 

“I should scarcely have expected,” she 
observed, “ that a granddaughter of mine 
would have spent half an hour conversing 
on the public road with the proprietor of 
Slowbridge Mills.” 


48 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“ O grandmamma! ” exclaimed Lucia, 
the tears rising in her eyes: “it was not 
half an hour.” 

“ I should scarcely have expected,” replied 
her ladyship, “ that a granddaughter of mine 
would have spent five minutes conversing on 
the public road with the proprietor of Slow- 
brldge Mills.” 

To this assault there seemed to be no re¬ 
ply to make. Lady Theobald had her grand¬ 
daughter under excellent control. Under 
her rigorous rule, the girl — whose mother 
had died at her birth — had been brought 
up. At nineteen she was simple, sensitive, 
shy. She had been permitted to have no 
companions, and the greatest excitements of 
her life had been the Slowbridge tea-parties. 
Of the late Sir Gilbert Theobald, the less 
said the better. He had spent very little of 
his married life at Oldclough Hall, and upon 
his death his widow had found herself pos¬ 
sessed of a substantial, gloomy mansion, an 
exalted position in Slowbridge society, and a 
small marriage-settlement, upon which she 
might make all the efforts she chose to sus 
tain her state. So Lucia wore her dresses * 


LUCIA. 


49 


much longer time than any other Slowbridge 
young lady: she was obliged to mend her 
little gloves again and again; and her hats 
were retrimmed so often that even Slow¬ 
bridge thought them old-fashioned. But she 
was too simple and sweet-natured to be 
much troubled, and indeed thought very 
little about the matter. She was only trou¬ 
bled when Lady Theobald scolded her, which 
was by no means infrequently. Perhaps the 
straits to which, at times, her ladyship was 
put to maintain her dignity imbittered her 
somewhat. 

“Lucia is neither a Theobald nor a Bar 
old,” she had been heard to say once, and 
she had said it with much rigor. 

A subject of much conversation in private 
circles had been Lucia’s future. It had been 
discussed in whispers since her seventeenth 
year, but no one had seemed to approach 
any solution of the difficulty. Upon the 
subject of her plans for her granddaughter, 
Lady Theobald had preserved stern silence. 
Once, and once only, she had allowed her¬ 
self to be betrayed into the expression of a 
sentiment connected with the matter. 


50 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


“If Miss Luoia marries” — a matron of 
reckless proclivities had remarked. 

Lady Theobald turned upon her, slowly 
and majestically. 

“if Miss Gaston marries,” she repeated. 
“ Does it seem likely that Miss Gaston will 
not marry ? ” 

This settled the matter finally. Lucia was 
to be married when Lady Theobald thought 
fit. So far, however, she had not thought 
fit: indeed, there had been nobody for Lucia 
to marry, — nobody whom her grandmother 
would have allowed her to marry, at least. 
There were very few young men in Slow- 
bridge; and the very few were scarcely eligi¬ 
ble according to Lady Theobald’s standard, 
and — if such a thing should be mentioned — 
to Lucia’s, if she had known she had on*, 
which she certainly did not 


ACCIDENTAL, 


sx 


CHAPTER VI. 

ACCIDENTAL. 

When dinner was over, Lady Theobald 
rose, and proceeded to the drawing-room, 
Lucia following in her wake. From her very 
babyhood Lucia had disliked the drawing¬ 
room, which was an imposing apartment of 
great length and height, containing much 
massive furniture, upholstered in faded blue 
satin. All the girl’s evenings, since her fifth 
year, had been spent sitting opposite her 
grandmother, in one of the straightest of the 
blue chairs: all the most scathing reproofs 
she had received had been administered to 
her at such times. She had a secret theory, 
indeed, that all unpleasant things occurred 
in the drawing-room after dinner. 

Just as they had seated themselves, and 
Lady Theobald was on the point of drawing 
toward her the little basket containing the 
gray woollen mittens she made a duty of 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


bt 

employing herself by knitting each evening, 
Dobson, the coachman, in his character of 
footman, threw open the door, and announced 
a visitor. 

“ Capt. Barold.” 

Lady Theobald dropped her gray mitten, 
the steel needles falling upon the table with 
a clink. She rose to her feet at once, and 
met half-way the young man who had entered. 

“ My dear Francis,” she remarked, “ I am 
exceedingly glad to see you at last,” with a 
slight emphasis upon the “ at last.” 

“ Tha-anks,” said Capt. Barold, rather lan¬ 
guidly. “ You’re very good, I’m sure.” 

Then he glanced at Lucia, and Lady Theo¬ 
bald addressed her: — 

“Lucia,” she said, “this is Francis Barold, 
who is your cousin.” 

Capt. Barold shook hands feebly. 

“ I have been trying to find out whether 
It is third or fourth,” he said. 

“ It is third,” said my lady. 

Lucia had never seen her display such 
cordiality to anybody. But Capt. Francis 
Barold did not seem much impressed by it. 
It struck Lucia that he would not be likely 


ACCIDENTAL, 


58 


to be impressed by any thing. He seated 
himself near her grandmother’s chair, and 
proceeded to explain his presence on the 
spot, without exhibiting much interest even 
in his own relation of facts. 

“I promised the Rathburns that I would 
spend a week at their place; and Slowbridge 
was on the way, so it occurred to me I would 
drop off in passing. The Rathburns’ place, 
Broadoaks, is about ten miles farther on; 
not far, you see.” 

“Then,” said Lady Theobald, “I am to 
understand that your visit is accidental.” 

Capt. Barold was not embarrassed. He 
did not attempt to avoid her ladyship’s rather 
stern eye, as he made his cool reply. 

“Well, yes,” he said. “I beg pardon, but 
it is accidental, rather.” 

Lucia gave him a pretty, frightened look, 
as if she felt that, after such an audacious 
confession, something very serious must hap 
pen; but nothing serious happened at all. 
Singularly enough, it was Lady Theobald 
herself who looked ill at ease, and as though 
she had not been prepared for such a contin 
gency. 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


t>4 


During the whole of the evening, in fact* 
it was always Lady Theobaid who was placed 
at a disadvantage, Lucia discovered. She 
could hardly realize the fact at first; but 
before an hour had passed, its truth was 
forced upon her. 

Capt. Barold was a very striking-looking 
man, upon the whole. He was large, grace¬ 
fully built, and fair: his eyes were gray, and 
noticeable for the coldness of their expression, 
his features regular and aquiline, his move¬ 
ments leisurely. 

As he conversed with her grandmother, 
Lucia wondered at him privately. It seemed 
to her innocent mind that he had been every¬ 
where, and seen every thing and everybody, 
without caring for or enjoying his privileges. 
The truth was, that he had seen and experi¬ 
enced a great deal too much. As an only 
child, the heir to a large property, and heir 
prospective to one of the oldest titles in the 
country, he had exhausted life early. He 
saw in Lady Theobald, not the imposing 
Head and social front of Slowbridge social 
life, the power who rewarded with approval 
and punished with a frown, but a tiresome, 


ACCIDENTAL. 


56 


pretentious Old woman, whom his mother 
had asked him, for some feminine reason, tc 
visit. 

ft She feels she has a claim upon us, Fran 
cis,” she had said appealingly. 

“Well,” he had remarked, “that is rather 
deuced cool, isn’t it? We have people 
enough on our hands without cultivating 
Slowbridge, you know.” 

His mother sighed faintly. 

“ It is true we have a great many people 
to consider; but I wish you would do it, my 
dear.” 

She did not say any thing at all about 
Lucia: above all, she did not mention that a 
year ago she herself had spent two or three 
days at Slowbridge, and had been charmed 
beyond measure by the girl’s innocent fresh¬ 
ness, and that she had said, rather absently, 
tD Lady Theobald, — 

“ What a charming wife Lucia would make 
for a man to whom gentleness and a yielding 
disposition were necessary! We do not find 
such girls in society ^nowadays, my dear 
Lady Theobald. It is very difficult of late 
years to find a girl who is not spoken of as> 


56 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


‘fast, and who is not disposed to take the 
reins in her own hands. Our young men are 
flattered and courted until they become a 
little dictatorial, and our girls are spoiled at 
home. And the result is a great deal of do¬ 
mestic unhappiness afterward — and even a 
great deal of scandal, which is dreadful to 
contemplate. I cannot help feeling the great 
est anxiety in secret concerning Francis. 
Young men so seldom consider these matters 
until it is too late.” 

“ Girls are not trained as they were in my 
young days, or even in yours,” said Lad} 
Theobald. “They are allowed too much 
liberty. Lucia has been brought up imme 
diately under my own eye.” 

“ I feel that it is fortunate,” remarked Mrs 
Barold, quite incidentally, “that Francis need 
not make a point of money.” 

For a few moments Lady Theobald did 
not respond; but afterward, in the course of 
the conversation which followed, she made 
an observation which was, of course, purely 
incidental. 

“ If Lucia makes a marriage which pleases 
her great-uncle, old Mr. Dugald Binnie, of 


ACCIDENTAL. 


57 


Glasgow, she will be a very foxtunate girl 
He has intimated, in his eccentric fashion, 
that his immense fortune will either be hers, 
or will be spent in building charitable asy¬ 
lums of various kinds. He is a remarkable 
and singular man.” 

When Capt. Barold had entered his dis¬ 
tinguished relative’s drawing-room, he had 
not regarded his third cousin with a very 
great deal of interest. He had seen too 
many beauties in his thirty years to be 
greatly moved by the sight of one; and here 
was only a girl who had soft eyes, and looked 
young for her age, and who wore an ugly 
muslin gown, that most girls could not have 
carried off at all. 

“ You have spent the greater part of your 
life in Slowbridge ? ” he condescended to say 
in the course of the evening. 

“I have lived here always,” Lucia an¬ 
swered. “I have never been away more 
than a week at a time.” 

“ Ah? ” interrogatively. “ I hope you have 
not found it dull.” 

“ No,” smiling a little. “Not very. Yon 
see, I have known nothing gayer.” 


o8 


A FAIR BARBARIAN 


“ There is society enough of a harmles 
kind here,’’ spoke up Lady Theobald virtu¬ 
ously. “ I do not approve of a round of gay- 
eties for young people: it unfits them fbr 
the duties of life.” 

But Capt. Barold was not as favorably 
impressed by these remarks as might have 
been anticipated. 

“ What an old fool she is! ” was his polite 
inward comment. And he resolved at once 
to make his visit as brief as possible, and 
not to be induced to run down again during 
his stay at Broadoaks. He did not even 
take the trouble to appear to enjoy his even¬ 
ing. From his earliest infancy, he had always 
found it easier to please himself than to 
please other people. In fact, the world had 
devoted itself to endeavoring to please him, 
and win his — toleration, we may say, instead 
of admiration, since it could not hope for the 
latter. At home he had been adored rap¬ 
turously by a large circle of affectionate male 
and female relatives; at school his tutors had 
been singularly indulgent of his faults and 
admiring of his talents • even among his fel 
low-pupils he had been a sort of autocrat 


ACCIDENTAL. 


5fe 


Wliy not, indeed, with such birthrights and 
such prospects ? When he had entered soci¬ 
ety, he had met with even more amiable 
treatment from affectionate mothers, from 
innocent daughters, from cordial paternal 
parents, who voted him an exceedingly fine 
fellow. Why should he bore himself by 
taking the trouble to seem pleased by a 
stupid evening with an old grenadier in 
petticoats and a badly dressed country 
girl? 

Lucia was very glad when, in answer to 
a timidly appealing glance, Lady Theobald 
said,— 

“It is half-past ten. You may wish us 
good-night, Lucia.” 

Lucia obeyed, as if she had been half-past 
ten herself, instead of nearly twenty; and 
Barold was not long in following her ex- 
ample. 

Dobson led him to a stately chamber at 
the top of the staircase, and left him there. 
The captain chose the largest and most luxu 
rious chair, sat down in it, and lighted a 
cigar at his leisure. 

“ Confoundedly stupid hole I” he said witb 


80 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


a refined vigor one would scarcely have ex 
pected from an individual of his birth and 
breeding. “ I shall leave to-morrow, of course. 
What was my mother thinking of? Stupid 
business from first to last. 7 ’ 


I SHOULD LIKE TO SEE MORE ” 6 


CHAPTER VII. 

“1 SHOULD LIKE TO SEE MORE OF 
8LOWBRIDGE.” 

When he announced at breakfast his in¬ 
tention of taking his departure on the mid¬ 
day train, Lucia wondered again what would, 
happen; and again, to her relief, Lady Theo¬ 
bald was astonishingly lenient. 

“ As your friends expect you, of course we 
cannot overrule them,” she said. “We will, 
however, hope to see something of you dur¬ 
ing your stay at Broadoaks. It will be very 
easy for you to run down and give us a few 
hours now and then.” 

“ Tha-anks,” said Capt. Barold. 

He was decently civil, if not enthusiastic, 
during the few remaining hours of his stay. 
He sauntered through the grounds with 
Lucia, who took charge of him in obedience 
to her grandmother’s wish. He did not find 
her particularly troublesome when she was 


$2 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


away from her ladyship’s side. When she 
came out to him in her simple cotton gcwn 
and straw hat, it occurred to him that sha 
was much prettier than he had thought hei 
at first. For economical reasons she had 
made the little morning-dress herself, with¬ 
out the slightest regard for the designs of 
Miss Chickie; and as it was not trimmed at 
all, and had only a black-velvet ribbon at the 
waist, there was nothing to place her charm¬ 
ing figure at a disadvantage. It could not be 
said that her shyness and simplicity delighted 
Capt. Barold, but, at least, they did not dis¬ 
please him; and this was really as much as 
could be expected. 

“ She does not expect a fellow to exert 
himself, at all events,” was his inward com¬ 
ment ; and he did not exert himself. 

But, when on the point of taking his 
departure, he went so far as to make a very 
gracious remark to her. 

“I hope we shall have the pleasure o! 
seeing you in London for a season, before 
very long,” he said: “ my mother will have 
great pleasure in taking charge of you, if 
Lady Theobald cannot be induced to leave 
Blowbridge.” 


*1 SHOULD LIKE TO SEE KOBE. 68 


“ Lucia never goes from home alone,” said 
Lady Theobald; “ but I should certainly be 
obliged to call upon your mother for her 
good offices, in the case of our spending a 
season in London. I am too old a woman t© 
alter my mode of life altogether.” 

In obedience to her ladyship’s orders, the 
venerable landau was brought to the door; 
and the two ladies drove to the station with 
him. 

It was during this drive that a very curi¬ 
ous incident occurred, — an incident to which, 
perhaps, this story owes its existence, since, 
if it had not taken place, there might, very 
possibly, have been no events of a stirring 
nature to chronicle. Just as Dobson drove 
rather slowly up the part of High Street dis¬ 
tinguished by the presence of Miss Belinda 
Bassett’s house, Capt. Barold suddenly ap 
peared to be attracted by some figure he dis 
covered in the garden appertaining to that 
modest structure. 

“ By Jove! ” he exclaimed, in an under 
tone, “ there is Miss Octavia.” 

For the moment he was almost roused hi 
a display of interest. A faint smiJe lighted 


64 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


his face, and his cold, handsome eyes slightly 
brightened. 

Lady Theobald sat bolt upright. 

“ That is Miss Bassett’s niece, from Ameri¬ 
ca,” she said. “ Do I understand you know 
her?” 

Capt. Barold turned to confront her, evi¬ 
dently annoyed at having allowed a surprise 
to get the better of him. All expression 
died out of his face. 

“ I travelled with her from Framwich to 
Stamford,” he said. “ I suppose we should 
have reached Slowbridge together, but that I 
dropped off at Stamford to get a newspaper, 
and the train left me behind.” 

“ O grandmamma I ” exclaimed Lucia, 
who had turned to look, “ how very pretty 
she is! ” 

Miss Octavia certainly was amazingly so 
this morning. She was standing by a rose¬ 
bush again, and was dressed in a cashmere 
morning-robe of the finest texture and the 
faintest pink: it had a Watteau plait down 
the back, a jabot of lace down the front, and 
the close, high frills of lace around the throat 
which seemed to be a weakness with her 


14 1 SHOULD LIKE TO SEE MORE .” to 


Her hair was dressed high upon her head, 
and showed to advantage her little ears and 
as much of her slim white neck as the frills 
did not conceal. 

But Lady Theobald did not share Lucia’s 
enthusiasm. 

“ She looks like an actress,” she said. “ If 
the trees were painted canvas and the roses 
artificial, one might have some patience with 
her. That kind of thing is scarcely what we 
expect in Slowbridge.” 

Then she turned to Barold. 

“ I had the pleasure of meeting her yes¬ 
terday, not long after she arrived,” she said. 
“She had diamonds in her ears as big as 
peas, and rings to match. Her manner is 
just what one might expect from a young 
woman brought up among gold-diggers and 
silver-miners.” 

“ It struck me as being a very unique and 
interesting manner,” said Capt. Barold. “ It 
is chiefly noticeable for a sang-froid which 
might be regarded as rather enviable. She 
was good enough to tell me all about her 
papa and the silver-mines, and I really found 
the conversation entertaining.” 


A FAIR BARBARIAN 


U 


M It is scarcely customary for English 
young women to confide in their masculine 
travelling companions to such an extent,” 
remarked my lady grimly. 

“ She did not confide in me at all,” said 
Barold. “ Therein lay her attraction. One 
cannot submit to being ‘confided in’ by a 
strange young woman, however charming. 
This young lady’s remarks were flavored 
solely with an adorably cool candor. She 
evidently did not desire to appeal to any 
emotion whatever.” 

And as he leaned back in his seat, he still 
looked at the picturesque figure which they 
had passed, as if he would not have been 
sorry to see it turn its head toward him. 

In fact, it seemed that, notwithstanding 
his usual good fortune, Capt. Barold was 
doomed this morning to make remarks of a 
nature objectionable to his revered relation. 
On their way they passed Mr. Burmistone’s 
mill, which was at work in all its vigor, with 
a whir and buzz of machinery, and a slight 
odor of oil in its surrounding atmosphere. 

“ Ah l ” said Mr. Barold, putting his single 
syeglass into his eye, and scanning it after 


“I SHOULD LIKE TO SEE MORE” 67 


she manner of experts. “I did not think 
jou had any thing of that sort here. Who 
put it up ? ” 

“The man’s name,” replied Lady Theo 
bald severely, “ is Burmistone.” 

“Pretty good idea, isn’t it?” remarked 
Barold. “ Good for the place — and all that 
sort of thing.” 

“ To my mind,” answered my lady, “it is 
the worst possible thing which could have 
happened.” 

Mr. Francis Barold dropped his eyeglass 
dexterously, and at once lapsed into his 
normal condition — which was a condition by 
no means favorable to argument. 

“ Think so ? ” he said slowly. “ Pity, isn’t 
it, under the circumstances ? ” 

And really there was nothing at all for her 
ladyship to do but preserve a lofty silence. 
She had scarcely recovered herself when they 
reached the station, and it was necessary tc 
lay farewell as complacently as possible. 

“We will hope to see you again before 
many days,” she said with dignity, if not 
with warmth. 

Mr. Francis Barold was silent for a second. 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


and a slightly reflective expression flitted 
across his face. 

“ Thanks, yes,” he said at last. “ Certain^ 
iy. It is easy to come down, and I should 
Like to see more of Slowbridge.” 

When the train had puffed in and out of 
the station, and Dobson was driving down 
High Street again, her ladyship’s feelings 
rather got the better of her. 

“ If Belinda Bassett is a wise woman,” she 
remarked, “ she will take my advice, and get 
rid of this young lady as soon as possible. 
It appears to me,” she continued, with ex¬ 
alted piety, “ that every well-trained English 
girl has reason to thank her Maker that she 
was born in a civilized land.” 

“ Perhaps,” suggested Lucia softly, “ Miss 
Octavia Bassett has had no one to train her 
at all; and it may be that — that she even 
feels it deeply.” 

The feathers in her ladyship’s bonnet 
trembled. 

“ She does not feel it at all! ” she an 
Qounced “ She is an impertinent — minx I ’ 


SHARKS LOOKING UP. 


61s 


CHAPTER VIII. 

SHARES LOOKING UP. 

There were others who echoed her lady¬ 
ship’s words afterward, though they echoed 
them privately, and with more caution than 
my lady felt necessary. It is certain that 
Miss Octavia Bassett did not improve ae 
time progressed, and she had enlarged oppor¬ 
tunities for studying the noble example set 
before her by Slowbridge. 

On his arrival in New York, Martin Bassett 
telegraphed to his daughter and sister, per 
Atlantic cable, informing them that he might 
be detained a couple of months, and bidding 
them to be of good cheer. The arrival of the 
message in its official envelope so alarmed 
Miss Belinda, that she was supported by 
Mary Anne while it was read to her by Oc¬ 
tavia, who received it without any surprise 
whatever. For some time after its comple¬ 
tion, Slowbridge had privately disbelieved in 


TO 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


the Atlantic cable, and, until this occasion* 
had certainly disbelieved in the existence of 
people who received messages through it. 
In fact, on first finding that she was the re¬ 
cipient of such a message, Miss Belinda had 
made immediate preparations for fainting 
quietly away, being fully convinced that a 
shipwreck had occurred, which had resulted 
in her brother’s death, and that his executors 
had chosen this delicate method of breaking 
the news. 

“ A message by Atlantic cable ? ” she had 
gasped. “Don’t — don’t read it, my love. 
Irlet some one else do that. Poor — poor 
child! Trust in Providence, my love, and 
— and bear up. Ah, how I wish I had a 
stronger mind, and could be of more service 
t© you! ” 

“ It’s a message from father,” said Octavia. 
“ Nothing is the matter. He’s all right. He 
got in on Saturday.” 

“Ah!” panted Miss Belinda. “Are 
you quite sure, my dear — are you quite 
sure ? ” 

“ That’s what he says. Listen.” 


8HARS8 LOOKING UP. 


71 


“ Got in Saturday. Piper met me. Shares look- 
Irig up. May be kept here two months. Will writ*. 
Keep up your spirits. 

“Martin Bassett.” 

“Thank Heaven!” sighed Miss Belinda. 
“ Thank Heaven! ” 

“ Why ? ” said Octavia. 

“ Why ? ” echoed Miss Belinda. “ Ah, my 
dear, if yon knew how terrified I was! I felt 
sure that something had happened. A cable 
message, my dear! I never received a tele¬ 
gram in my life before, and to receive a cable 
message was really a shock” 

“Well, I don’t see why,” said Octavia. 
“It seems to me it is pretty much like any 
other message.” 

Miss Belinda regarded her timidly. 

“ Does your papa often send them ? ” she 
inquired. “ Surely it must be expensive.” 

“I don’t suppose it’s cheap,” Octavia re¬ 
plied, “but it saves time and worry. I 
should have had to wait twelve days for a 
letter.” 

“Very true,” said Miss Belinda, “but” — 

She broke off with rather a distressed 
shake of the head. Her simple ideas of ecen 


72 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


omy and quiet living were frequently upset 
In these times. She had begun to regard 
her niece with a slight feeling of awe; and 
yet Octavia had not been doing any thing 
at all remarkable in her own eyes, and con 
aidered her life pretty dull. 

If the elder Miss Bassett, her parents and 
grandparents, had not been so thoroughly 
well known, and so universally respected; 
if their social position had not been so firmly 
established, and their quiet lives not quite so 
highly respectable, — there is an awful possi¬ 
bility that Slowbridge might even have gone 
so far as not to ask Octavia out to tea at all. 
But even Lady Theobald felt that it would 
not do to slight Belinda Bassett’s niece and 
guest. To omit the customary state teas 
would have been to crush innocent Miss Be¬ 
linda at a blow, and place her — through the 
medium of this young lady, who alone de¬ 
served condemnation — beyond the pale of 
all social law. 

“ It is only to be regretted,” said her lady¬ 
ship, u that Belinda Bassett has not arranged 
things better. Relatives of such an order 
are certainly to be deplored.” 


vflARES LOOKING UP. 


73 


In secret Lucia felt much soft-hearted 
sympathy for both Miss Bassett and her 
guest. She could not help wondering how 
Miss Belinda became responsible for the 
calamity which had fallen upon her. It 
really did not seem probable that she had 
been previously consulted as to the kind of 
niece she desired, or that she had, in a dis¬ 
tinct manner, evinced a preference for a 
niece of this description. 

“ Perhaps, dear grandmamma,” the girl ven¬ 
tured, “ it is because Miss Octavia Bassett is 
so young that ” — 

“ May I ask,” inquired Lady Theobald, in 
fell tones, “ how old you are ? ” 

“ I was nineteen in — in December.” 

“ Miss Octavia Bassett,” said her ladyship, 
“was nineteen last October, and it is now 
June. I have not yet found it necessary to 
apologize for you on the score of youth.” 

But it was her ladyship who took the ini¬ 
tiative, and set an evening for entertaining 
Miss Belinda and her niece, in company with 
several other ladies, with the best bohea, thin 
bread and butter, plum-cake, and various 
other delicacies. 


74 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“ What do they do at such places ? ” asked 
Octavia. “ Half-past five is pretty early.” 

“We spend some time at the tea-table, my 
dear,” explained Miss Belinda. “ And after¬ 
ward we — we converse. A few of us play 
whist. I do not. I feel as if I were not 
clever enough, and I get flurried too easily 
by — by differences of opinion.” 

“ I should think it wasn’t very exciting,” 
said Octavia. “I don’t fancy I ever went 
to an entertainment where they did nothing 
but drink tea, and talk.” 

“It is not our intention or desire to be 
exciting, my dear,” Miss Belinda replied 
with mild dignity. “ And an improving con¬ 
versation is frequently most beneficial to the 
parties engaged in it.” 

“I’m afraid,” Octavia observed, “that I 
never heard much improving conversation.” 

She was really no fonder of masculine 
society than the generality of girls; but she 
could not help wondering if there would be 
any young men present, and if, indeed, there 
were any young men in Slowbridge who 
might possibly be produced upon festive 
occasions, even though ordinarily kept in 


SHARES LOOKING UP. 


75 


the background. She had not heard Miss 
Belinda mention any masculine name so far, 
but that of the curate of St. James’s; and, 
when she had seen him pass the house, she 
had not found his slim, black figure, and 
faint, ecclesiastic whiskers, especially inter¬ 
esting. 

It must be confessed that Miss Belinda 
suffered many pangs of anxiety in looking 
forward to her young kinswoman’s first ap¬ 
pearance in society. A tea at Lady Theo¬ 
bald’s house constituted formal presentation 
to the Slowbridge world. Each young lad} 
within the pale of genteel society, having 
arrived at years of discretion, on returning 
home from boarding-school, was invited to 
tea at Oldclough Hall. During an entire 
evening she was the subject of watchful 
criticism. Her deportment was remarked, 
her accomplishments displayed, she per¬ 
formed her last new “pieces” upon the 
piano, she was drawn into conversation by 
her hostess; and upon the timid modesty of 
her replies, and the reverence of her listening 
attitudes, depended her future social status. 
So it was very uatural indeed that Mis? 
Belinda should be anxious. 


76 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


“I would wear something rather quiet 
and — and simple, my dear Octavia,” she 
said. “A white muslin perhaps, with blue 
ribbons.” 

“ Would you ? ” answered Octavia. Then, 
after appearing to reflect upon the matter a 
few seconds, “ I’ve got one that would do, if 
it’s warm enough to wear it I bought it in 
New York, but it came from Paris. I’ve 
never worn it yet.” 

“It would be nicer than any thing else, 
my love,” said Miss Belinda, delighted to 
find her difficulty so easily disposed of. 
“Nothing is so charming in the dress of a 
young girl as pure simplicity. Our Slow- 
bridge young ladies rarely wear any thing 
but white for evening. Miss Chickie as¬ 
sured me, a few weeks ago, that she had 
made fifteen white-muslin dresses, all after 
one simple design of her own.” 

“I shouldn’t think that was particularly 
nice, myself,” remarked Octavia impartially. 
“ I should be glad one of the fifteen didn’t 
belong to me. I should feel as if people 
might say, when i came into a room, 4 Gooc 
gracious, there’s another I ’ ” 


SHARKS LOOKING UP. 


77 


“The fiist was made for Miss Luiia Gas* 
ton, who is Lady Theobald’s niece,” replied 
Miss Belinda mildly. “And there are few 
young ladies in Slowbridge who would not 
emulate her example.” 

“ Oh! ” said Octavia, “ I dare say she is 
very nice, and all that; but I don’t believe 
I should care to copy her dresses. I think I 
should draw the line there.” 

But she said it without any ill-nature; and, 
sensitive as Miss Belinda was upon the sub¬ 
ject of her cherished ideals, she could not 
take offence. 

When the eventful evening arrived, there 
was excitement in more than one establish¬ 
ment upon High Street and the streets in ite 
vicinity. The stories of the diamonds, the 
gold-diggers, and the silver-mines, had been 
added to, and embellished, in the most ornate 
and startling manner. It was well known 
that only Lady Theobald’s fine appreciation 
of Miss Belinda Bassett’s feelings had in¬ 
duced her to extend her hospitalities to tha 
lady’s niece. 

“ I would prefer, my dear,” said me re than 
one discreet matron to her daughter, as they 




A FAIR BARBARIAN 


attired themselves, — “I would much prefer 
that you would remain near me during the 
earlier part of the evening, before we know 
how this young lady may turn out. Let 
your manner toward her be kind, but not 
familiar. It is well to be upon the safe side.” 

What precise line of conduct it was gen¬ 
erally anticipated that this gold-digging and 
silver-mining young person would adopt, it 
would be difficult to say: it is sufficient that 
the general sentiments regarding her were 
of a distrustful, if not timorous, nature. 

To Miss Bassett, who felt all this in the 
very air she breathed, the girl’s innocence of 
the condition of affairs was even a little 
touching. With all her splendor, she was 
not at all hard to please, and had quite 
awakened to an interest in the impending 
social event. She seemed in good spirits, 
and talked more than was her custom, giving 
Miss Belinda graphic descriptions of various 
festal gatherings she had attended in New 
York, when she seemed to have been very 
gay indeed, and to have worn very beautiful 
dresses, and also to have had rather more 
than her share of partners. The phrases she 


SHARES LOOKING UP. 


79 


used, and the dances she described, were all 
strange to Miss Belinda, and tended to re¬ 
ducing her to a bewildered condition, in 
which she felt much timid amazement at the 
intrepidity of the New-York yomng ladies, 
and no slight suspicion of the “ German ” — 
as a theatrical kind of dance, involving 
extraordinary figures, and an extraordinary 
amount of attention from partners of the 
stronger sex. 

It must be admitted, however, that by this 
time, notwithstanding the various shocks she 
had received, Miss Belinda had begun to dis¬ 
cover in her young guest divers good quali¬ 
ties which appealed to her affectionate and 
susceptible old heart. In the first place, the 
girl had no small affectations: indeed, if she 
had been less unaffected she might have been 
less subject to severe comment. She was 
good-natured, and generous to extravagance. 
Her manner toward Mary Anne never ceased 
to arouse Miss Belinda to interest. There 
was not any condescension whatever in it, 
and yet it could not be called a vulgarly 
familiar manner: it was rather an astonish¬ 
ingly simple manner, somehow suggestive of 


m 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


a subtile recognition of Mary Anne’s youth, 
and ill-luck in not having before her more 
lively prospects. She gave Mary Anne pres¬ 
ents in the shape of articles of clothing at 
which Slowbridge would have exclaimed in 
horror if the recipient had dared to wear 
them; but, when Miss Belinda expressed her 
regret at these indiscretions, O eta via was 
quite willing to rectify her mistakes. 

“ Ah, well! ” she said, “ I can give her some 
money, and she can buy some things for her¬ 
self.” Which she proceeded to do; and 
when, under her mistress’s direction, Mary 
Anne purchased a stout brown merino, she 
took quite an interest in her struggles at 
making it. 

“ I wouldn’t make it so short in the waist 
and so full in the skirt, ii I were you,” she 
said. “ There’s no reason why it shouldn’t 
fit, you know,” thereby winning the house- 
maiden’s undying adoration, and adding 
much to the shapeliness of the garment. 

“I am sure she has a good heart,” Miss 
Belinda said to herself, as the days went by. 
M She is like Martin in that. I dare say she 
finds me very ignorant and silly. I often se* 


SHARES LOOKING UP. 


81 


in her face that she is unable to understand 
my feeling about things; but she never seems 
to laugh at me, nor think of me unkindly 
And she is very, very pretty, though perhaps 
l ought not to think of that at all/* 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


as 


CHAPTER IX. 

WHITE MUSLIH. 

As the good little spinster was arraying 
herself on this particular evening, having 
laid upon the bed the greater portion of her 
modest splendor, she went to her wardrobe, 
and took therefrom the sacred bandbox con¬ 
taining her best cap. All the ladies of Slow- 
bridge wore caps; and all being respectfully 
plagiarized from Lady Theobald, without any 
reference to age, size, complexion, or de¬ 
meanor, the result was sometimes a little 
trying. Lady Theobald’s head-dresses were 
of a severe and bristling order. The lace 
of which they were composed was induced 
by some ingenious device to form itself into 
aggressive quillings, the bows seemed lined 
with buckram, the strings neither floated no? 
fluttered. 

41 To a majestic person the style is ver) 


WHITE MUSLIN. 


U 


appropriate ” Miss Belinda had said to Octa* 
via that very day; “ but to one who is not 
so, it is rather trying. Sometimes, indeed, I 
have almost wished that Miss Chickie would 
vary a little more in her designs.” 

Perhaps the sight of the various articles 
contained in two of the five trunks had 
inspired these doubts in the dear old lady’s 
breast: it is certain, at least, that, as she 
took the best cap up, a faint sigh fluttered 
upon her lips. 

“ It is very large for a small person,” she 
said. “ And I am not at all sure that amber 
is becoming to me.” 

And just at that moment there came a tap 
at the door, which she knew was from Oo- 
tavia. 

She laid the cap back, in some confusion 
at being surprised in a moment of weakness. 

“ Come in, my love,” she said. 

Octavia pushed the door open, and came 
in She had not dressed yet, and had on 
her wrapper and slippers, which were both 
of quilted gray silk, gayly embroidered with 
carnations. But Miss Belinda had seen both 
wrapper and slippers before, and had become 


A FAIR BARBARIAN 


S4 

used to their sumptuousness: what she had 
not seen was the trifle the girl held in her 
hand. 

“ See here,” she said. “ See what I have 
been making for you! ” 

She looked quite elated, and laughed tri¬ 
umphantly. 

“I did not know I could do it until I 
tried,” she said. “ I had seen some in New 
York, and I had the lace by me. And I 
have enough left to make ruffles for your 
neck and wrists. It’s Mechlin.” 

“ My dear! ” exclaimed Miss Belinda. 
“ My dear! ” 

Octavia laughed again. 

“Don’t you know what it is?” she said. 
“It isn’t like a Slowbridge cap; but it’s a 
cap, nevertheless. They wear them like this 
In New York, and I think they are ever so 
much prettier.” 

It was true that it was not like a Slow¬ 
bridge cap, and was also true that it was 
prettier. It was a delicate affair of softly 
quilled lace, adorned here and there with 
loops of pale satin ribbon. 

“ Let me try it on,” said Octavia, advan 


WHITE MUSLIN. 


85 


eing; and in a minute she had done sc, and 
turned Miss Bassett about to face herself in 
the glass. “ There! ” she said. “ Isn’t that 
better than — well, than emulating Lady 
Theobald?” 

It was so pretty and so becoming, and 
Miss Belinda was so touched by the girl’s 
innocent enjoyment, that the tears came into 
her eyes. 

“My — my love,” she faltered, “it is so 
beautiful, and so expensive, that — though 
indeed I don’t know how to thank you — I 
am afraid I should not dare to wear it.” 

“ Oh ! ” answered Octavia, “ that’s non¬ 
sense, you know. I’m sure there’s no reasor 
why people shouldn’t wear becoming things. 
Besides, I should be awfully disappointed. 
I didn’t think I could make it, and I’m real 
proud of it. You don’t know how becoming 
it is ! ” 

Miss Belinda looked at her reflection, and 
faltered. It was becoming. 

“My love,” she protested faintly, “real 
Mechlin! There is really no such lace in 
Slowbridge. ” 

“ All the better,” said Ootavia cheerfully 


86 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“ I’m glad to hear that. It isn’t one bit toe 
nice for you.” 

To Miss Belinda’s astonishment, she drew 
a step nearer to her, and gave one of the 
satin loops a queer, caressing little touch 
which actually seemed to mean something. 
And then suddenly the girl stooped, with a 
little laugh, and gave her aunt a light kiss 
on her cheek. 

“ There! ” she said. “ You must take it 
from me for a present. I’ll go and make the 
ruffles this minute; and you must wear those 
too, and let people see how stylish you can 
be.” 

And, without giving Miss Bassett time to 
speak, she ran out of the room, and left the 
dear old lady warmed to the heart, tearful, 
delighted, frightened. 

A coach from the Blue Lion had been or¬ 
dered to present itself at a quarter past five, 
promptly; and at the time specified it rattled 
up to the door with much spirit, — with so 
much spirit, indeed, that Miss Belinda was a 
little alarmed. 

“Dear, dear!” she said. “I hope the 
driver will be able tc control the horse, and 


WHITE MUSLIN. 


97 


will not allow him to go too fast. One hears 
of such terrible accidents.” 

Then Mary Anne was sent to announce 
the arrival of the equipage to Miss Octavia, 
and, having performed the errand, came 
back beaming with smiles. 

“Oh, mum,” she exclaimed, “you never 
see nothin’ like her I Her gownd is ’evingly. 
An’ lor’I how you do look yourself, to be 
sure I ” 

Indeed, the lace ruffles on her “best” 
black silk, and the little cap on her smooth 
hair, had done a great deal for Miss Bassett; 
and she had only just been reproaching her¬ 
self for her vanity in recognizing this fact. 
But Mary Anne’s words awakened a new 
train of thought. 

“ Is — is Miss Octavia’s dress a showy one, 
Mary Anne?” she inquired. “Dear me, I 
do hope it is not a showy dress I ” 

“ I never see nothin’ no eleganter, mum,” 
said Mary Anne: “she wants nothin’ but 
a veil to make a bride out of her — an’ a 
becominer thing she never has wore.” 

They heard the soft sweep of skirts at that 
moment, and Octavia came in. 


88 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“ There ! ” she said, stopping when she had 
reached the middle of the room. “Is that 
simple enough?” 

Miss Belinda could only look at her help¬ 
lessly. The “ white muslin ” was composed 
almost entirely of Valenciennes lace; the 
blue ribbons were embroidered with field- 
daisies ; the air of delicate elaborateness 
about the whole was something which her 
innocent mind could not have believed pos¬ 
sible in orthodox white and blue. 

“ I don’t think I should call it exactly sim¬ 
ple,” she said. “ My love, what a quantity 
of lace! ” 

Octavia glanced down at her jabots and 
frills complacently. 

“ There is a good deal of it,” she re¬ 
marked ; “ but then, it is nice, and one can 
stand a good deal of nice Valenciennes on 
white. They said Worth made the dress. 
I hope he did. It cost enough. The ribbon 
was embroidered by hand, I suppose. And 
there is plenty of it cut up into these bows.” 

There was no more to be said. Miss 
Belinda led the way to the coach, which 
they entered under the admiring or critical 


WHITE MVSLIN. 


eyes of several most respectable families 
who had been lying in wait behind their 
window-curtains since they had been sum¬ 
moned there by the sound of the wheels. 

As the vehicle rattled past the boarding- 
school, all the young ladies in the first class 
rushed to the window. They were rewarded 
for their zeal by a glimpse of a cloud of mus¬ 
lin and lace, a charmingly dressed yellow- 
brown head, and a pretty face, whose eyes 
favored them with a frank stare of interest. 

“ She had diamonds in her ears! ” cried 
Miss Phipps, wildly excited. “ I saw them 
flash. Ah, how I should like to see her with¬ 
out her wraps! I have no doubt she 2s a 
perfect blaze! ” 


90 


A FAIR BARBARIAN 


CHAPTER X. 

ANNOUNCING ME. BAROLD. 

Lady Theobald’s invited guests sat La 
the faded blue drawing-room, waiting. Every¬ 
body had been unusually prompt, perhaps 
because everybody wished to be on the 
ground in time to see Miss Octavia Bassett 
make her entrance. 

“ I should think it would be rather a trial, 
even to such a girl as she is said to be,” re¬ 
marked one matron. 

“It is but natural that she should feel 
that Lady Theobald will regard her rathei 
critically, and that she should know that 
American manners will hardly be the thing 
for a genteel and conservative English coun¬ 
try town.” 

“ We saw her a few days ago,” said Lucia, 
who chanced to hear this speech, “ and she 
Is very pretty. I think I never saw any one 
so very pretty before.” 


ANNOUNCING MR. BAROLD. 91 

“But in quite a theatrical way, I think, 
my dear,” the matron replied, in a tone of 
gentle correction. 

“I have seen so very few theatrical peo¬ 
ple,” Lucia answered sweetly, “that I scarce¬ 
ly know what the theatrical way is, dear Mrs. 
Burnham. Her dress was very beautiful, and 
not like what we wear in Slowbridge; but 
she seemed to me to be very bright and 
pretty, in a way quite new to me, and so just 
a little odd.” 

“ I have heard that her dress is most ex¬ 
travagant and wasteful,” put in Miss Pilcher, 
whose educational position entitled her to 
the condescending respect of her patron¬ 
esses. “ She has lace on her morning gowns, 
which ”— 

“ Miss Bassett and Miss Octavia Bassett,” 
announced Dobson, throwing open the door. 

Lady Theobald rose from her seat. A 
slight rustle made itself heard through the 
company, as the ladies all turned toward 
the entrance; and, after they had so turned, 
there were evidences of a positive thrill. 
Before the eyes of all, Belinda Bassett ad¬ 
vanced with rich ruffles of Mechlin at her 


n 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


neck and wrists, with a delicate and die 
tinctly novel cap upon her head, her niece 
following her with an unabashed face, twenty 
pounds’ worth of lace on her dress, and un¬ 
mistakable diamonds in her little ears. 

“ There is not a shadow of timidity about 
her,” cried Mrs. Burnham under her breath. 
“ This is actual boldness.” 

But this was a very severe term to use, 
notwithstanding that it was born of righteous 
indignation. It was not boldness at all: it 
was only the serenity of a young person who 
was quite unconscious that there was any 
thing to fear in the rather unimposing party 
before her. Octavia was accustomed to en¬ 
tering rooms full of strangers. She had 
spent several years of her life in hotels, 
where she had been stared out of counte 
nance by a few score new people every day. 
She was even used to being, in some sort, a 
young person of note. It was nothing un¬ 
usual for her to know that she was being 
pointed out. “ That pretty blonde,” she 
often heard it said, “is Martin Bassett’s 
daughter: sharp fellow, Bassett, — and lucky 
fellow too; more money than he can count.’ 


ANNOUNCING MR. BAROLD. 


93 


So she was not at all frightened when she 
walked in behind Miss Belinda. She glanced 
about her cheerfully, and, catching sight of 
Lucia, smiled at her as she advanced up the 
room. The call of state Lady Theobald had 
made with her grand-daughter had been a 
very brief one; but Octavia had taken a de¬ 
cided fancy to Lucia, and was glad to see 
her again. 

“ I am glad to see you, Belinda,” said her 
ladyship, shaking hands. “And you also, 
Miss Octavia.” 

“ Thank you,” responded Octavia. 

“ You are very kind,” Miss Belinda mur¬ 
mured gratefully. 

“I hope you are both well?” said Lady 
Theobald with majestic condescension, and 
in tones to be heard all over the room. 

“Quite well, thank you,” murmured Miss 
Belinda again. “ Very well indeed; ” rather 
as if this fortunate state of affairs was the 
result of her ladyship’s kind intervention 
with the fates. 

She felt terribly conscious of being the 
centre of observation, and rather overpow 
ered by the novelty of her attire, which wa.« 


94 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


plainly oreating a sensation. Octavia, how 
ever, who was far more looked at, was en¬ 
tirely oblivions of the painful prominence of 
her position. She remained standing in the 
middle of the room, talking to Lucia, who 
had approached to greet her. She was so 
much taller than Lucia, that she looked very 
tall indeed by contrast, and also very won¬ 
derfully dressed. Lucia’s white muslin was 
one of Miss Chickie’s fifteen, and was, in a 
“genteel” way, very suggestive of Slow- 
bridge. Suspended from Octavia’s waist by 
a long loop of the embroidered ribbon, was a 
little round fan, of downy pale-blue feathers, 
and with this she played as she talked; but 
Lucia, having nothing to play with, could 
only stand with her little hands hanging at 
her sides. 

“I have never been to an afternoon tea 
like this before,” Octavia said. “ It is noth* 
ing like a kettle-drum.” 

“ I am not sure that I know what a kettle¬ 
drum is,” Lucia answered. “They have 
them in London, I think; but I have never 
been to London.” 

“They have them in New York,” said 


ANNOUNCING MR. BAROLD. 


% 


Octavia; “and they are a crowded sort of 
afternoon parties, where ladies go in carriage- 
toilet, not evening dress. People are rushing 
in and out all the time.” 

Lucia glanced around the room and smiled. 

“ That is very unlike this,” she remarked. 

“Well,” said Octavia, “I should think 
that, after all, this might be nicer.” 

Which was very civil. 

Lucia glanced around again — this time 
rather stealthily — at Lady Theobald. Then 
she glanced back at Octavia. 

“ But it isn’t,” she said, in an undertone. 

Octavia began to laugh. They were on a 
new and familiar footing from that moment. 

“ I said 4 it might,’ ” she answered. 

She was not afraid, any longer, of finding 
the evening stupid. If there were no young 
men, there was at least a young woman who 
was in sympathy with her. She said, — 

“ I hope that I shall behave myself pretty 
well, and do the things I am expected to do.” 

“ Oh! ” said Lucia, with a rather alarmed 
expression, “ I hope so. I — I am afraid you 
would not be comfortable if you didn’t.” 

Octavia opened her eyes, as she often did 


96 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


at Miss Belinda’s remarks, and then suddenly 
she began to laugh again. 

“ What would they do ? ” she said dis¬ 
respectfully. “Would they turn me out, 
without giving me any tea ? ” 

Lucia looked still more frightened. 

“Don’t let them see you laughing,” she 
said. “ They — they will say you are giddy.” 

“ Giddy ! ” replied Octavia. “ I don’t 
think there is any thing to make me giddy 
here.” 

“ If they say you are giddy,” said Lucia, 
“ your fate will be sealed; and, if you are 
to stay here, it really will be better to try to 
please them a little.” 

Octavia reflected a moment. 

“I don’t mean to cfo'splease them,” she 
said, “ unless they are very easily displeased. 
I suppose I don’t think very much about 
what people are saying of me. I don’t seem 
to notice.” 

“ Will you come now and let me introduce 
Miss Egerton and her sister?” suggested 
Lucia hurriedly. “ Grandmamma is looking 
at us.” 

In the innocence of her heart Octavia 


ANNOUNCING MR. BAROLD. 


97 


glanced at Lady Theobald, and saw that she 
was looking at them, and with a disappro* 
lng air. 

“I wonder what that’s for?” she said to 
herself; but she followed Lucia across the 
room. 

She made the acquaintance of the Misses 
Egerton, who seemed rather fluttered, and, 
after the first exchange of civilities, subsided 
into monosyllables and attentive stares. 
They were, indeed, very anxious to hear 
Octavia converse, but had not the courage to 
attempt to draw her out, unless a sudden 
query of Miss Lydia’s could be considered 
such an attempt. 

“ Do you like England ? ” she asked. 

“ Is this England ? ” inquired Octavia. 

“It is a part of England, of course,” re¬ 
plied the young lady, with calm literalness. 

“ Then, of course, I like it very much,” 
said Octavia, slightly waving her fan and 
smiling. 

Miss Lydia Egerton and Miss Violet 
Egerton each regarded her in dubious silence 
for a moment. They did not think she 
looked as if she were “ clever; ” but the speech 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


•8 

sounded to both as if she were, and as if she 
meant to be clever a little at their expense. 

Naturally, after that they felt slightly un¬ 
comfortable, and said less than before; and 
conversation lagged to such an extent that 
Octavia was not sorry when tea was an¬ 
nounced. 

And it so happened that tea was not the 
only thing announced. The ladies had all 
just risen from their seats with a gentle 
rustle, and Lady Theobald was moving for¬ 
ward to marshal her procession into the 
dining-room, when Dobson appeared at the 
door again. 

“Mr. Barold, my lady,” he said, “and 
Mr. Burmistone.” 

Everybody glanced first at the door, and 
then at Lady Theobald. Mr. Francis Barold 
crossed the threshold, followed by the tall, 
square-shouldered builder of mills, who was 
a strong, handsome man, and bore himself 
very well, not seeming to mind at all the 
numerous eyes fixed upon him. 

“I did not know,” said Barold, “that we 
should find you had guests. Beg pardon, 
I’m sure, and so does Burmistone, whom I 


ANNOUNCING MB. BABOLD. 


9 


had the pleasure of meeting at Broadoaks, 
and who was good enough to invite me to 
return with him.” 

Lady Theobald extended her hand to the 
gentleman specified. 

“I am glad,” she said rigidly, “to see 
Mr. Burmistone.” 

Then she turned to Barold. 

“ This is very fortunate,” she announced. 
“We are just going in to take tea, in which 
I hope you will join us. Lucia ” — 

Mr. Francis Barold naturally turned, as 
her ladyship uttered her granddaughter’s 
name in a tone of command. It may be 
supposed that his first intention in turning 
was to look at Lucia; but he had scarcely 
done so, when his attention was attracted by 
the figure nearest to her, — the figure of a 
young lady, who was playing with a little 
blue fan, and smiling at him brilliantly and 
unmistakably. 

The next moment he was standing at 
Octavia Bassett’s side, looking rather pleased, 
and the blood of Slowbridge was congeal¬ 
ing, as the significance of the situation was 
realized. 


100 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


One instant of breathless — of awful — 
suspense, and her ladyship recovered herself. 

“We will go in to tea,” she said. “May 
I ask you, Mr. Burmistone, to accompany 
Miss Pilcher?” 


A SLIGHT INDISCRETION . 


101 


CHAPTER XI. 

A SLIGHT INDISCRETION. 

During the remainder of the evening, 
Miss Belinda was a prey to wretchedness 
and despair. When she raised her eyes to 
her hostess, she met with a glance full of icy 
significance; when she looked across the tea- 
table, she saw Octavia seated next to Mr. 
Francis Barold, monopolizing his attention, 
and apparently in the very best possible 
spirits. It only made matters worse, that 
Mr. Francis Barold seemed to find her re¬ 
marks worthy of his attention. He drank 
very little tea, and now and then appeared 
much interested and amused. In fact, he 
found Miss Octavia even more entertaining 
than he had found her during their journey. 
She did not hesitate at all to tell him that 
she was delighted to see him again at this 
particular juncture. 

“ You don’t know how glad I was to se« 
you oome in,” sbo said. 


102 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


She met his rather startled glance with the 
most open candor as she spoke. 

“It is very civil of you to say so,” he 
said; “ but you can hardly expect me to be¬ 
lieve it, you know. It is too good to be 
true.” 

“I thought it was too good to be true 
when the door opened,” she answered cheer¬ 
fully. “ I should have been glad to see any¬ 
body , almost ” — 

“Well, that,” he interposed, “isn’t quite 
so civil.” 

“ It is not quite so civil to ” — 

But there she checked herself, and asked 
him a question with the most naive serious^ 
ness. 

“Are you a great friend of Lady Theo¬ 
bald’s ? ” she said. 

“ No,” he answered. “lama relative.” 

“ That’s worse,” she remarked. 

“ It is,” he replied. “ Very much worse.” 

“ I asked you,” she proceeded, with an en¬ 
trancing little smile of irreverent approval, 
“because I was going to say that my last 
speech was not quite so civil to Lady Theo* 
bald.” 


A SLIGHT INDISCRETION. 105 


“That is perfectly true,” he responded. 
44 It wasn’t civil to her at all.” 

He was passing his time very comfortably 
and was really surprised to feel that he was 
more interested in these simple audacities 
than he had been in any conversation for 
some time. Perhaps it was because his com¬ 
panion was so wonderfully pretty, but it is 
not unlikely that there were also other rea¬ 
sons. She looked him straight in the eyes, 
she comported herself after the manner of a 
young lady who was enjoying herself, and 
yet he felt vaguely that she might have en¬ 
joyed herself quite as much with Burmi- 
stone, and that it was probable that she 
would not think a second time of him, or of 
what she said to him. 

After tea, when they returned to the draw¬ 
ing-room, the opportunities afforded for con¬ 
versation were not numerous. The piano 
was opened, and one after another of the 
young ladies were invited to exhibit their 
prowess. Upon its musical education Slow- 
bridge prided itself. “Few towns,” Misa 
Pilcher frequently remarked, “ could be con¬ 
gratulated upon the possession of such talent 


104 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


and 8uch cultivation.” The Misses Egerton 
played a duet, the Misses Loftus sang, Miss 
Abercrombie “ executed ” a sonata with such 
effect as to melt Miss Pilcher to tears; and 
still Octavia had not been called upon. 
There might have been a reason for this, or 
there might not; but the moment arrived, at 
length, when Lady Theobald moved toward 
Miss Belinda with evidently fell intent. 

“Perhaps,” she said, “perhaps your niece, 
Miss Octavia, will favor us.” 

Miss Belinda replied in a deprecatory and 
uncertain murmur. 

“I — am not sure. I really don’t know. 
Perhaps — Octavia, my dear.” 

Octavia raised a smiling face. 

“ I don’t play,” she said. “ I never 
learned.” 

“ You do not play I ” exclaimed Lady 
Theobald. “ You do not play at all! ” 

“No,” answered Octavia. “Not a note. 
And I think I am rather glad of it; because, 
if I tried, I should be sure to do it worse than 
other people. I would rather,” with unim- 
aired cheerfulness, “let some one else do it.’ 

There were a few seconds of dead silence 


A SLIGHT INDISCRETION. 105 

A dozen people seated around her had heard. 
Miss Pilcher shuddered; Miss Belinda looked 
down; Mr. Francis Barold preserved an en¬ 
tirely unmoved countenance, the general im¬ 
pression being that he was very much shocked, 
and concealed his disgust with an effort. 

“ My dear, said Lady Theobald, with an 
air of much condescension and some grave 
pity, “ I should advise you to try to learn. 
I can assure you that you would find it 
a great source of pleasure.” 

“ If you could assure me that my friends 
would find it a great source of pleasure, 
I might begin,” answered the mistaken 
young person, still cheerfully; “but I am 
afraid they wouldn’t.” 

It seemed that fate had marked her for 
disgrace. In half an hour from that time 
she capped the climax of her indiscretions. 

The evening being warm, the French 
windows had been left open; and, in passing 
one of them, she stopped a moment to look 
out at the brightly moonlit grounds. 

Barold, who was with her, paused too. 
“Looks rather nice, doesn’t it?” he said. 

“ Yes, ” she replied. “ Suppose we go out 
on the terrace ” 



106 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


He -aughed in an amused fashion she did 
not understand. 

“Suppose we do,” he said. “By Jove, 
that’s a good idea! ” 

He laughed as he followed her. 

“ What amuses you so ? ” she inquired. 

“ Oh! ” he replied, “ I am merely thinking 
of Lady Theobald.” 

“Well, she commented, “I think it’s 
rather disrespectful in you to laugh. Isn’t it 
a lovely night ? I didn’t think you had such 
moonlight nights in England. What a night 
for a drive! ” 

“Is that one of the things you do in 
America — drive by moonlight ? ” 

“ Yes. Do you mean to say you don’t do 
it in England ? ” 

“ Not often. Is it young ladies who drive 
by moonlight in America?” 

“ Well, you don’t suppose they go alone, 
do you ? ” quite ironically. “ Of course they 
have some one with them.” 

“ Ah! Their papas ? ” 

“No” 

“ Their mammas ? ” 

“No” 


A SLIGHT INDISCRETION. 


107 


Their governesses, their uncles, their 
aunts ? ” 

“ No,” with a little smile. 

He smiled also. 

“That is another good idea,” he said. 
“You have a great many nice ideas in 
America.” 

She was silent a moment or so, swinging 
her fan slowly to and fro by its ribbon, and 
appearing to reflect. 

“Does that mean,” she said at length, 
“that it wouldn’t be considered proper in 
England ? ” 

“ I hope you won’t hold me responsible for 
English fallacies,” was his sole answer. 

“I don’t hold anybody responsible for 
them,” she returned with some spirit. “I 
don’t care one thing about them.” 

“That is fortunate,” he commented. “I 
am happy to say I don’t, either. I take the 
liberty of pleasing myself. I find it pays 
best.” 

“Perhaps,” she said, returning to the 
charge, “perhaps Lady Theobald will think 
this is improper.” 

He put his hand up, and stroked his mafr 
tache lightly, without replying. 


108 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“But it is not” she added emphatically. 
“it is not!” 

“ No,” he admitted, with a touch of irony, 
“ it is not! ” 

“Are you any the worse for it?” she de¬ 
manded. 

“Well, really, I think not — as yet,” he 
replied. 

“ Then we won’t go in,” she said, the smile 
returning tc her lips again. 


AN INVITATION. 


109 


CHAPTER XII. 

AN INVITATION. 

In the mean time Mr. Burmistone was 
improving his opportunities within doors. 
He had listened to the music with the most 
serious attention; and on its conclusion he 
had turned to Mrs. Burnham, and made him¬ 
self very agreeable indeed. At length, how¬ 
ever, he arose, and sauntered across the 
room to a table at which Lucia Gaston 
chanced to be standing alone, having just 
been deserted by a young lady whose mam¬ 
ma had summoned her. She wore, Mr. 
Burmistone regretted to see, as he advanced, 
a troubled and anxious expression; the truth 
being that she had a moment before remarked 
the exit of Miss Belinda’s niece and her com¬ 
panion. It happened oddly that Mr. Burmi- 
stone’s first words touched upon the subject 
of her thought. He began quite abruptly 
with it. 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


11 # 

“It seems to me/’ he said, “that Miaa 
Octavia Bassett ” — 

Lucia stopped him with a courage which 
surprised herself. 

“ Oh, if you please,” she implored, “ don’t 
say any thing unkind about her ! ” 

Mr. Burmistone looked down into her soft 
eyes with a good deal of feeling. 

“ I was not going to say any thing unkind,” 
he answered. “ Why should I ? ” 

“Everybody seems to find a reason for 
speaking severely of her,” Lucia faltered. 
“ I have heard so many unkind things to¬ 
night, that I am quite unhappy. I am sure 
— Iam sure she is very candid and simple.” 

“Yes,” answered Mr. Burmistone, “I am 
sure she is very candid and simple.” 

“ Why should we expect her to be exact¬ 
ly like ourselves ? ” Lucia went on. “ How 
can we be sure that our way is better than 
any other? Why should they be angry 
because her dress is so expensive and pret¬ 
ty ? Indeed, I only wish I had such a dress. 
It is a thousand times prettier than any we 
ever wear. Look around the room, and see 
if it is not. And as to her not having 


AN INVITATION. 


Ill 


learned to play on the piano, or to speak 
French — why should she be obliged to do 
things she feels she would not be clever at ? 
I am not clever, and have been a sort of 
Blave all my life, and have been scolded and 
blamed for what I could not help at all, until 
I have felt as if I must be a criminal. How 
happy she must have been to be let alone ! ” 

She had clasped her little hands, and, 
though she spoke in a low voice, was quite 
impassioned in an unconscious way. Her 
brief girlish life had not been a very happy 
one, as may be easily imagined; and a glimpse 
of the liberty for which she had suffered 
roused her to a sense of her own wrongs. 

“We are all cut out after the same pat¬ 
tern,” she said. “We learn the same things, 
and wear the same dresses, one might say. 
What Lydia Egerton has been taught, I 
have been taught; yet what two creatures 
could be more unlike each other, by nature, 
than we are ? ” 

Mr. Burmistone glanced across the room 
at Miss Egerton. She was a fine, robust 
young woman, with a high nose and a stolid 
expression of countenance. 


112 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“ That is true,” he remarked. 

“We are afraid of every thing,” said Lu¬ 
cia bitterly. “ Lydia Egerton is afraid — 
though you might not think so. And, as for 
me, nobody knows what a coward I am but 
myself. Yes, I am a coward! When grand¬ 
mamma looks at me, I tremble. I dare not 
speak my mind, and differ with her, when I 
know she is unjust and in the wrong. No 
one could say that of Miss Octavia Bassett.” 

“That is perfectly true,” said Mr. Bur- 
mistone; and he even went so far as to laugh 
as he thought of Miss Octavia trembling in 
the august presence of Lady Theobald. 

The laugh checked Lucia at once in her 
little outburst of eloquence. She began to 
blush, the color mounting to her forehead. 

“ Oh! ” she began, “ I did not mean to — 
to say so much. I ” — 

There was something so innocent and 
touching in her sudden timidity and con¬ 
fusion, that Mr. Burmistone forgot alto¬ 
gether that they were not very old friends, 
and that Lady Theobald might be looking. 

He bent slightly forward, and leoked intc 
her upraised, alarmed eyes. 


AN INVITATION. 


115 


M Don’t be afraid of me” he said; u don’t, 
for pity’s sake ! ” 

He could not have hit upon a luckier 
speech, and also he could not have uttered it 
more feelingly than he did. It helped her to 
recover herself, and gave her courage. 

“ There,” she said, with a slight catch of 
the breath, “ does not that prove what I said 
to be true ? I was afraid, the very moment 
I ceased to forget myself. I was afraid of 
you and of myself. I have no courage at 
aH.” 

“ You will gain it in time,” he said. 

“ I shall try to gain it,” she answered. “ I 
am nearly twenty, and it is time that I should 
learn to respect myself. I think it must be 
because I have no self-respect that I am such 
a coward.” 

It seemed that her resolution was to be 
tried immediately; for at that very moment 
Lady Theobald turned, and, on recognizing 
the full significance of Lucia’s position, was 
apparently struck temporarily dumb and 
motionless. When she recovered from the 
shock, she made a majestic gesture of oom 
m&nd. 


114 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


Mr. Burmistone glanced at the girl’s face, 
and saw that it changed color a little. “ Ladj 
Theobald appears to wish to speak to you,” 
he said. 

Lucia left her seat, and walked across the 
room with a steady air. Lady Theobald did 
not remove her eye from her until she stopped 
within three feet of her. Then she asked a 
rather unnecessary question: — 

“ With whom have you been conversing ? ’ 

“With Mr. Burmistone.” 

“ Upon what subject ? ” 

“We were speaking of Miss Octavia Bas¬ 
sett.” 

Her ladyship glanced around the room, as 
if a new idea had occurred to her, and said, — 

“ Where is Miss Octavia Bassett ? ” 

Here it must be confessed that Lucia fal¬ 
tered. 

“ She is on the terrace with Mr. Barold.” 

“She is on” — 

Her ladyship stopped short in the middle 
of her sentence. This was too much for her. 
She left Lucia, and crossed the room to Mis# 
Belinda. 

“ Belinda,” she said, in an awful aader 


AN INVITATION. 


115 


tone, * your niece is out upon the terrace with 
Mr. Barold. Perhaps it would be as well 
for you to intimate to her that in England 
it is not customary — that— Belinda, go 
and bring her in.” 

Miss Belinda arose, actually looking pale. 
She had been making such strenuous efforts 
to converse with Miss Pilcher and Mrs. 
Burnham, that she had been betrayed into 
forgetting her charge. She could scarcely 
believe her ears. She went to the open win¬ 
dow, and looked out, and then turned paler 
than before. 

“ Octavia, my dear,” she said faintly. 

“ Francis I ” said Lady Theobald, over her 
shoulder. 

Mr. Francis Barold turned a rather bored 
countenance toward them; but it was evi¬ 
dently not Octavia who had bored him. 

“Octavia,” said Miss Belinda, “how im¬ 
prudent! In that thin dress—the night 
air! How could you, my dear, how could 
you ? ” 

“Oh! I shall not catch cold,” Octavia 
answered. “ I am used to it. I have been 
out hours and hours, on moonlight nights, at 
home.” 


116 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


Bat she moved toward them. 

“You must remember,” said Lady Theo 
bald, “ that there are many things which may 
be done in America which would not be safe 
in England.” 

And she made the remark in an almost 
sepulchral tone of warning. 

How Miss Belinda would have supported 
herself if the coach had not been announced 
at this juncture, it would be difficult to say. 
The coach was announced, and they took 
their departure. Mr. Barold happening to 
make his adieus at the same time, they were 
escorted by him down to the vehicle from 
the Blue Lion. 

When he had assisted them in, and closed 
the door, Octavia bent forward, so that the 
moonlight fell full on her pretty, lace- 
covered head, and the sparkling drops in her 
ears. 

“ Oh! ” she exclaimed, “ if you stay here 
at all, you must come and see us. — Aunt 
Belinda, ask him to come and see us.” 

Miss Belinda could scarcely speak. 

“ I shall be most — most happy,” she flut¬ 
tered. “Any — friend of dear Lady Theo 
bald’s, of course ” — 


AN INVITATION. 


117 


‘ Don’t forget,” said Octavia, waving her 
hand. 

The coach moved off, and Miss Belinda 
sank back into a dark corner. 

“My dear,” she gasped, “what will he 
think?” 

Octavia was winding her lace scarf around 
her throat. 

“ He’ll think I want him to call,” she said 
serenely. “ And I do.” 


118 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

INTENTIONS. 

The position in which Lady Theobald 
found herself placed, after these occurrences, 
was certainly a difficult and unpleasant one. 
It was Mr. Francis Barold’s caprice, for the 
time being, to develop an intimacy with Mr. 
Burmistone. He had, it seemed, chosen to 
become interested in him during their so¬ 
journ at Broadoaks. He had discovered him 
to be a desirable companion, and a clever, 
amiable fellow. This much he condescended 
to explain incidentally to her ladyship’s self. 

“ I can’t say I expected to meet a nice fel¬ 
low or a companionable fellow,” he remarked, 
“ and I was agreeably surprised to find him 
both. Never says too much or too little. 
Never bores a man.” 

To this Lady Theobald could make no 
reply. Singularly enough, she had discov¬ 
ered early in their acquaintance that her 


INTENTIONS. 


119 


wonted weapons were likely to dull their 
edges upon the steely coldness of Mr. Fran¬ 
cis Barold’s impassibility. In the presence 
of this fortunate young man, before whom 
his world had bowed the knee from his ten- 
derest infancy, she lost the majesty of her 
demeanor. He refused to be affected by it: 
he was even implacable enough to show 
openly that it bored him, and to insinuate 
by his manner that he did not intend to 
submit to it. He entirely ignored the claim 
of relationship, and acted according to the 
promptings of his own moods. He did not 
feel it at all incumbent upon him to remain 
at Oldclough Hall, and subject himself to 
the time-honored customs there in vogue. 
He preferred to accept Mr. Burmistone’s 
invitation to become his guest at the hand¬ 
some house he had just completed, in which 
he lived in bachelor splendor. Accordingly 
he installed himself there, and thereby com¬ 
plicated matters greatly. 

Slowbridge found itself in a position as 
difficult as, and far more delicate than, Lady 
Theobald’s. The tea-drinkings in honor of 
that troublesome young person, Miss Octavia 


m 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


Bassett, having been inaugurated by hei 
ladyship, must go the social rounds, accord¬ 
ing to ancient custom. But what, in discre¬ 
tion’s name, was to be done concerning Mr. 
Francis Barold ? There was no doubt what¬ 
ever that he must not be ignored; and, in 
that case, what difficulties presented them¬ 
selves ! 

The mamma of the two Misses Egerton, 
who was a nervous and easily subjugated 
person, was so excited and overwrought by 
the prospect before her, that, in contemplating 
it when she wrote her invitations, she was 
affected to tears. 

“ I can assure you, Lydia,” she said, “ that 
I have not slept for three nights, I have been 
so harassed. Here, on one hand, is Mr. 
Francis Barold, who must be invited; and on 
the other is Mr. Burmistone, whom we can¬ 
not pass over; and here is Lady Theobald, 
who will turn to stone the moment she sees 
him, — though, goodness knows, I am sure 
he seems a very quiet, respectable man, and 
said some of the most complimentary things 
about your playing. And here is that dread¬ 
ful girl, who is enough to give one cold 


INTENTIONS. 


121 


chills, and who may do all sorts of dreadful 
things, and is certainly a living example to 
all respectable, well-educated girls. And the 
blindest of the blind could see that nothing 
would offend Lady Theobald more fatally 
than to let her be thrown with Francis Bar 
old; and how one is to invite them into the 
same room, and keep them apart, I’m sure I 
don’t know how. Lady Theobald herself 
could not do it, and how can we be expected 
to ? And the refreshments on my mind too; 
and Forbes failing on her tea-cakes, and 
bringing up Sally Lunns like lead.” 

That these misgivings were equally shared 
by each entertainer in prospective, might be 
adduced from the fact that the same after¬ 
noon Mrs. Burnham and Miss Pilcher ap¬ 
peared upon the scene, to consult with Mrs. 
Egerton upon the subject. 

Miss Lydia and Miss Violet being dis¬ 
missed up-stairs to their practising, the three 
ladies sat in the darkened parlor, and talked 
the matter over in solemn conclave. 

“ I have consulted Miss Pilcher, and men¬ 
tioned the affair to Mrs. Gibson,” announced 
Mrs. Burnham. “And, really, we have not 
pet been able to arrive at any conclusion.” 


122 


A FAIR BARBARIAN 


Mrs. Egerton shook her head tea:fully. 

“ Pray don’t come to me, my dears,” she 
said, — “ don’t, I beg of you! I have thought 
about it until my circulation has all gone 
wrong, and Lydia has been applying hot- 
water bottles to my feet all the morning. I 
gave it up at half-past two, and set Violet to 
writing invitations to one and all, let the 
consequences be what they may.” 

Miss Pilcher glanced at Mrs. Burnham, 
and Mrs. Burnham glanced at Miss Pilcher. 

“ Perhaps,” Miss Pilcher suggested to her 
companion, “ it would be as well for you to 
mention your impressions.” 

Mrs. Burnham’s manner became addition¬ 
ally cautious. She bent forward slightly. 

“ My dear,” she said, “ has it struck you 
that Lady Theobald has any — intentions, so 
to speak ? ” 

“ Intentions ? ” repeated Mrs. Egerton. 

“Yes,” with deep significance, — “so to 
speak. With regard to Lucia.” 

Mrs. Egerton looked utterly helpless. 

“Dear me!” she ejaculated plaintively. 
“ I have never had time to think of it. Dear 
me I With regard to Lucia! ” 


INTENTIONS. 


128 


Mrs. Burnham became more significant 
still. 

“ And” she added, “Mr. Francis Barold.” 

Mrs. Egerton turned to Miss Pilcher, and 
saw confirmation of the fact in her counte¬ 
nance. 

“ Dear, dear! ” she said. “ That makes it 
worse than ever.” 

“ It is certain,’’ put in Miss Pilcher, “ that 
the union would be a desirable one; and we 
have reason to remark that a deep interest 
in Mr. Francis Barold has been shown by 
Lady Theobald. He has been invited to 
make her house his home during his stay in 
Slowbridge; and, though he has not done so, 
the fact that he has not is due only to some 
inexplicable reluctance upon his own part. 
And we all remember that Lady Theobald 
once plainly intimated that she anticipated 
Lucia forming, in the future, a matrimonial 
alliance.” 

“Oh!” commented Mrs. Egerton, with 
some slight impatience, “ it is all very well 
for Lady Theobald to have intentions for 
Lucia; but, if the young man has none, I 
really don’t see that her intentions will b* 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


124 

likely to result in any thing particular. And 
I am sure Mr. Francis Barold is not in the 
mood to be influenced in that way now. He 
is more likely to entertain himself with Miss 
Octavia Bassett, who will take him out in 
the moonlight, and make herself agreeable to 
him in her American style.” 

Miss Pilcher and Mrs. Burnham exchanged 
glances again. 

“My dear,” said Mrs. Burnham, “he has 
called upon her twice since Lady Theobald’s 
tea. They say she invites him herself, and 
flirts with him openly in the garden.” 

“ Her conduct is such,” said Miss Pilcher, 
with a shudder, “that the blinds upon the 
side of the seminary which faces Miss Bas¬ 
sett’s garden are kept closed by my orders. 
I have young ladies under my care whose 
characters are in process of formation, and 
whose parents repose confidence in me.” 

“Nothing but my friendship for Belinda 
Bassett,” remarked Mrs Burnham, “would 
induce me to invite the girl to my house.” 
Then she turned to Mrs. Egerton. “ But — 
ahem — have you included them all in your 
invitations ? ” she observed. 


INTENTIONS. 


m 


Mrs. Egerton became plaintive again. 

“ I don’t see how I could be expected to 
do any thing else,” she said. “ Lady Theo¬ 
bald herself could not invite Mr. Francis 
Barold from Mr. Burmistone’s house, and 
leave Mr. Burmistone at home. And, after 
all, I must say it is my opinion nobody would 
have objected to Mr. Burmistone, in the first 
place, if Lady Theobald had not insisted 
upon it.” 

Mrs. Burnham reflected. 

“ Perhaps that is true,” she admitted cau¬ 
tiously at length. “And it must be con¬ 
fessed that a man in his position is not 
entirely without his advantages — particu¬ 
larly in a place where there are but few 
gentlemen, and those scarcely desirable 
as ” — 

She paused there discreetly, but Mrs. 
Egerton was not so discreet. 

“ There are a great many young ladies in 
Slowbridge,” she said, shaking her head,— 
“a great many! And with five in a family, 
all old enough to be out of school, I am sure 
it is flying in the face of Providence to neg¬ 
lect one’s opportunities.” 


126 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


When the two ladies took their departure, 
Mrs. Burnham seemed reflective. Finally 
she said, — 

“Poor Mrs. Egerton’s mind is not what 
it was, and it never was remarkably strong. 
It must be admitted, too, that there is a lack 
of — of delicacy. Those great plain girls of 
hers must be a trial to her.” 

As she spoke they were passing the privet 
hedge which surrounded Miss Bassett’s house 
and garden; and a sound caused both to 
glance around. The front door had just 
been opened; and a gentleman was descend¬ 
ing the steps, — a young gentleman in neat 
clericai garb, his guileless ecclesiastical coun¬ 
tenance suffused with mantling blushes of 
confusion and delight. He stopped on the 
gravel path to receive the last words of Miss 
Octavia Bassett, who stood on the threshold, 
smiling down upon him in the prettiest way 
in the world. 

“ Tuesday afternoon,” she said. “ Now 
don’t forget; because I shall ask Mr. Barold 
and Miss Gaston, on purpose to play against 
us. Even St. James can’t object to croquet.” 

“I — indeed, I shall be most happy and 


INTENTIONS. 


127 


and delighted,” stammered her departing 
guest, “if you will be so kind as to — to 
instruct me, and forgive my awkwardness.” 

“ Oh! I’ll instruct you,” said Octavia. 
“ I have instructed people before, and I know 
how.” 

Mrs. Burnham clutched Miss Pilcher’s arm. 
“ Do you see who that is ? ” she demanded. 
“ Would you have believed it ? ” 

Miss Pilcher preserved a stony demeanor. 
“ I would believe any thing of Miss Octa¬ 
via Bassett,” she replied. “ There would be 
nothing at all remarkable, to my mind, in 
her flirting with the bishop himself I Why 
should she hesitate to endeavor to entangle 
the curate of St. James?” 




m 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A CLERICAL VISIT. 

It was indeed true that the Rev. Arthur 
Poppleton had spent the greater part of his 
afternoon in Miss Belinda Bassett’s front 
parlor, and that Octavia had entertained him 
In such a manner that he had been beguiled 
into forgetting the clerical visits he had in¬ 
tended to make, and had finally committed 
himself by a promise to return a day or two 
later to play croquet. His object in calling 
had been to request Miss Belinda’s assistance 
in a parochial matter. His natural timorous¬ 
ness of nature had indeed led him to put off 
making the visit for as long a time as possible. 
The reports he had heard of Miss Octavia 
Bassett had inspired him with great dread. 
Consequently he had presented himself at 
Miss Belinda’s front door with secret an¬ 
guish. 

“ Will you say,” he had faltered to Mary 


A CLERICAL VISIT. 


129 

Anne, “ that it is Mr. Popple ton, to see Mt*$ 
Bassett — Miss Belinda Bassett ? ” 

And then he had been handed into the 
parlor, the door had been closed behind him, 
and he had found himself shut up entirely 
alone in the room with Miss Octavia Bassett 
herself. 

His first impulse was to turn, and flee 
precipitately: indeed, he even went so far 
as to turn, and clutch the handle of the door; 
but somehow a second thought arrived in 
time to lead him to control himself. 

This second thought came with his second 
glance at Octavia. 

She was not at all what he had pictured 
her. Singularly enough, no one had told 
him that she was pretty; and he had thought 
of her as a gaunt young person, with a deter¬ 
mined and manly air. She struck him, on 
the contrary, as being extremely girlish and 
charming to look upon. She wore the pale 
pink gown; and as he entered he saw her 
give a furtive little dab to her eyes with a 
lace handkerchief, and hurriedly crush an 
open letter into her pocket. Then, seeming 
,to dismiss her emotion with enviable facility, 
^h* rose to gr*et him. 


130 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“If you want to see aunt Belinda,” she 
Raid, “ perhaps you had better sit down. She 
will be here directly.” 

He plucked up spirit to take a seat, sud 
denly feeling his terror take wing. He wa& 
amazed at his own courage. 

“ Th-thank you,” he said. “ I have the 
pleasure of ” — There, it is true, he stopped, 
looked at her, blushed, and finished somewhat 
disjointedly. “Miss Octavia Bassett, I be¬ 
lieve.” 

“ Yes,” she answered, and sat down near 
him. 

When Miss Belinda descended the stairs, 
a short time afterward, her ears were greeted 
by the sound of brisk conversation, in which 
the Rev. Arthur Poppleton appeared to be 
taking part with before-unheard-of spirit. 
When he arose at her entrance, there was in 
his manner an air of mild buoyancy which 
astonished her beyond measure. When he 
re-seated himself, he seemed quite to forget 
the object of his visit for some minutes, and 
was thus placed in the embarrassing position 
•jf having to refer to his note-book. 

Having do»« so, and found that he had 


A CLERICAL VISIT. 


131 


called to ask assistance for the family of one 
of his parishioners, he recovered himself 
somewhat. As he explained the exigencies 
of the case, Octavia listened. 

“ Well,” she said, “ I should think it would 
make you quite uncomfortable, if you see 
things like that often.” 

“ I regret to say I do see such things only 
too frequently,” he answered. 

“ Gracious I ” she said ; but that was all. 

He was conscious of being slightly disap¬ 
pointed at her apathy; and perhaps it is to 
be deplored that he forgot it afterward, when 
Miss Belinda had bestowed her mite, and the 
case was dismissed for the time being. He 
really did forget it, and was beguiled into 
making a very long call, and enjoying himself 
as he had never enjoyed himself before. 

When, at length, he was recalled to a 
sense of duty by a glance at the clock, he 
had already before his eyes an opening vista 
of delights, taking the form of future calls, 
and games of croquet played upon Miss 
Belinda’s neatly-shaven grass-plat. He had 
bidden the ladies adieu in the parlor, and, 
having stepped into the hall, was fumbling 


132 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


rather excitedly in the umbrella-stand for his 
own especially slender clerical umbrella, 
when he was awakened to new rapture by 
hearing Miss Octavia’s tone again. 

He turned, and saw her standing quite 
near him, looking at him with rather an odd 
expression, and holding something in her 
hand. 

“ Oh I ” she said. “ See here, — those 
people.” 

“I — beg pardon,” he hesitated. “I don’t 
quite understand.” 

“ Oh, yes! ” she answered. 4 Those des¬ 
perately poor wretches, you know, with 
fever, and leaks in their house, and all sorts 
of disagreeable things the matter with them. 
Give them this, won’t you ? ” 

“This” was a pretty silk purse, through 
whose meshes he saw the gleam of gold coin. 

“That?” he said. “You don’t mean — 
isn’t there a gqod deal — I beg pardon — but 
really ” — 

“Well, if they are as poor as you say they 
are, it won’t be too much,” she replied. “ I 
don’t suppose they’ll object to it: do you ? ” 

She extended it to him as if she rather 
wished to get it out of her hands. 


A CLERICAL VISIT. 


138 


“ You’d better take it,” she said. “ I shall 
apend it on something I don’t need, if yon 
don’t. I’m always spending money on things 
I don’t care for afterward.” 

He was filled with remorse, remembering 
that he had thought her apathetic. 

“I — I really thought you were not inter¬ 
ested at all,” he burst forth. “ Pray forgive 
me. This is generous indeed.” 

She looked down at some particularly bril¬ 
liant rings on her hand, instead of looking at 
him. 

“ Oh, well I ” she said, “ I think it must be 
simply horrid to have to do without things. 
I can’t see how people live. Besides, I 
haven’t denied myself any thing. It would 
be worth talking about if I had, I suppose. 
Oh! by the by, never mind telling any one, 
will you ? ” 

Then, without giving him time to reply, 
she raised her eyes to his face, and plunged 
into the subject of the croquet again, pur¬ 
suing it until the final moment of his exit 
and departure, which was when Mrs. Burn¬ 
ham and Miss Pilcher had been scandalized 
at the easy freedom of her adieus. 


184 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


CHAPTER XV. 

SUPERIOR ADVANTAGES. 

When Mr. Francis Barold called to pay 
his respects to Lady Theobald, after partak- 
ing of her hospitality, Mr. Burmistone ac¬ 
companied him; and, upon almost every other 
occasion of his presenting himself to her lady¬ 
ship, Mr. Burmistone was his companion. 

It may as well be explained at the outset, 
that the mill-owner of Burmistone Mills was 
a man of decided determination of character, 
and that, upon the evening of Lady Theo¬ 
bald’s tea, he had arrived at the conclusion 
that he would spare no effort to gain a cer¬ 
tain end he felt it would add to his happi¬ 
ness to accomplish. 

“ I stand rather in awe of Lady Theobald, 
as any ordinary man would,” he had said dry¬ 
ly to Barold, on their return to his house. 
“ But my awe of her is not so great yet that 
I shall allow it to interfere with any of my 
plans.” 


SUPERIOR ADVANTAGES. 1S6 

“ Have you any especial plan ? ” inquired 
Barold carelessly, after a pause. 

“ Yes,” answered Mr. Burmistone, — “ sev¬ 
eral. I should like to go to Oldclough rather 
often.” 

“ I feel it the civil thing to go to Oldclough 
oftener than I like. Go with me.” 

“ I should like to be included in all the 
invitations to tea for the next six months.” 

“ I shall be included in all the invitations 
so long as I remain here ; and it is not likely 
you will be left out in the cold. After you 
have gone the rounds once, you won’t be 
dropped.” 

“ Upon the whole, it appears so,” said Mr. 
Burmistone. “ Thanks.” 

So, at each of the tea-parties following 
Lady Theobald’s, the two men appeared to¬ 
gether. The small end of the wedge being 
inserted into the social stratum, the rest was 
not so difficult. Mrs. Burnham was at once 
surprised and overjoyed by her discoveries of 
the many excellences of the man they had so 
hastily determined to ignore. Mrs. Aber¬ 
crombie found Mr. Burmistone’s manner all 
that could be desired. Miss Pilcher ex 


136 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


pressed the highest appreciation of his views 
upon feminine education and “our duty to 
the young in our charge.” Indeed, after 
Mrs. Egerton’s evening, the tide of publio 
opinion turned suddenly in his favor. 

Public opinion did not change, however, 
as far as Octavia was concerned. Having 
had her anxiety set at rest by several 
encouraging paternal letters from Nevada, 
she began to make up her mind to enjoy 
herself, and was, it is to be regretted, be¬ 
trayed by her youthful high spirits into 
the committing of numerous indiscretions. 
Upon each festal occasion she appeared in 
a new and elaborate costume: she accepted 
the attentions of Mr. Francis Barold, as if 
it were the most natural thing in the world 
that they should be offered; she joked — 
in what Mrs. Burnham designated* “ her 
Nevada way”—with the Rev. Arthur Pop- 
pleton, who appeared more frequently than 
had been his habit at the high teas. She 
played croquet with that gentleman and 
Mr. Barold day after day, upon the gras&- 
plat, before all the eyes gazing down upon 
her from the neighboring windows; she 


SUPERIOR ADVANTAGES. 


187 


managed to coerce Mr. Burmistone into 
joining these innocent orgies; and, in fact, 
to quote Miss Pilcher, there was “no limit 
to the shamelessness of her unfeminine con- 
duct.” 

Several times much comment had been 
aroused by the fact that Lucia Gaston had 
been observed to form one of the party of 
players. She had indeed played with Barold, 
against Octavia and Mr. Poppleton, on che 
memorable day upon which that gentleman 
had taken his first lesson. 

Barold had availed himself of the invita¬ 
tion extended to him by Octavia, upon 
several occasions, greatly to Miss Belinda’s 
embarrassment. He had dropped in the 
evening after the curate’s first call. 

“Is Lady Theobald very fond of you?” 
Octavia had asked, in the course of this 
visit. 

“It is very kind of her, if she is,” he 
replied with languid irony. 

“ Isn’t she fond enough of you to do any 
thing you ask her?” Octavia inquired. 

“ Really, I think not,” he replied. “ Im¬ 
agine the degree of affection it requires I I 


188 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


am not fond enough of any one to do any 
thing they ask me.” 

Octavia bestowed a long look upon him. 

“ Well,” she remarked, after a pause, “ 1 
believe you are not. I shouldn’t think so.” 

Barold colored very faintly. 

“ I say,” he said, “ is that an imputation, 
or something of that character? It sounds 
like it, you know.” 

Octavia did not reply directly. She 
laughed a little. 

“ I want you to ask Lady Theobald to do 
something,” she said. 

“I am afraid I am not in such favor as 
you imagine,” he said, looking slightly an¬ 
noyed. 

“ Well, I think she won’t refuse you this 
thing,” she went on. “ If she didn’t loathe 
me so, I would ask her myself.” 

He deigned to smile. 

“Does she loathe you?” he inquired. 

“Yes,” nodding. “She would not speak 
to me if it weren’t for aunt Belinda. She 
thinks I am fast and loud. Do you think I 
am fast and loud?” 

He was taken aback, and not for the first 


SUPERIOR ADVANTAGES. 


189 


time, either. She had startled and discom 
posed him several times in the course of their 
brief acquaintance; and he always resented 
it, priding himself in private, as he did, upon 
his coolness and immobility. He could not 
think of the right thing to say just now, so 
he was silent for a second. 

“Tell me the truth,” she persisted. “I 
shall not care — much.” 

“ I do not think you would care at all.” 

“Well, perhaps I shouldn’t. Goon. Do 
you think I am fast ? ” 

“I am happy to say I do not find you 
slow.” 

She fixed her eyes on him, smiling faintly. 

“That means I am fast,” she said. “Well, 
no matter. Will you ask Lady Theobald 
what I want you to ask her ? ” 

“I should not say you were fast at all,” 
he said rather stiffly. “ You have not been 
educated as — as Lady Theobald has edu 
cated Miss Gaston, for instance.” 

“ I should rather think not,” she replied. 
Then she added, very deliberately, “She 
has had what you might call very superior 
advantages, I suppose.” 


L40 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


Her expression was totally incomprehen 
sible to him. She spoke with the utmost 
seriousness, and looked down at the table. 

“ That is derision, I suppose,” he remarked 
restively. 

She glanced up again. 

“ At all events,” she said, “ there is noth¬ 
ing to laugh at in Lucia Gaston. Will you 
ask Lady Theobald ? I want you to ask her 
to let Lucia Gaston come and play croquet 
with us on Tuesday. She is to play with 
you against Mr. Popple ton and me.” 

“ Who is Mr. Poppleton ? ” he asked, with 
some reserve. He did not exactly fancy 
sharing his entertainment with any ordinary 
outsider. After all, there was no knowing 
what this little American might do. 

“ He is the curate of the church,” she 
replied, undisturbed. “ He is very nice, and 
little, and neat, and blushes all over to the 
toes of his boots. He came to see aunt 
Belinda, and I asked him to come and be 
taught to play.” 

“ Who is to teach him ? ” 

“I am. I have taught at least twenty 
ooen in New York and San Franciscc.” 


SUPERIOR ADVANTAGES. 


141 


“I hope he appreciates your kindness.” 

“ I mean to try if I can make him forget 
to be frightened,” she said, with a gay 
laugh. 

It was certainly nettling to find his air of 
reserve and displeasure met with such incon¬ 
sequent lightness. She never seemed to rec¬ 
ognize the subtle changes of temperature 
expressed in his manner. Only his sense of 
what was due to himself prevented his being 
very chilly indeed ; but as she went on with 
her gay chat, in utter ignorance of his mood, 
and indulged in some very pretty airy non¬ 
sense, he soon recovered himself, and almost 
forgot his private grievance. 

Before going away, he promised to ask 
Lady Theobald’s indulgence in the matter 
of Lucia’s joining them in their game. One 
speech of Octavia’s, connected with the sub¬ 
ject, he had thought very pretty, as well as 
kind. 

“ I like Miss Gaston,” she said. “ I think 
we might be friends if Lady Theobald would 
let us. Her superior advantages might do 
me good. They might improve me,” she 
went on, with a little laugh, “ and I suppose 


142 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


I need improving very much. Ail my ad¬ 
vantages have been of one kind.” 

When he had left her, she startled Mis« 
Belinda by saying, — 

“I have been asking Mr. Barold if he 
thought I was fast; and I believe he does — 
in fact, I am sure he does.” 

“ Ah, my dear, my dear! ” ejaculated Miss 
Belinda, “ what a terrible thing to say to a 
gentleman ! What will he think ? ” 

Octavia smiled one of her calmest smiles. 

“ Isn’t it queer how often you say that! ” 
she remarked. “ I think I should perish if I 
had to pull myself up that way as you do. 
I just go right on, and never worry. I don’t 
mean to do any thing queer, and I don’t see 
why any one should think I do.” 


CROQUET 


14$ 


CHAPTER XVI. 

CROQUET. 

Lucia was permitted to form one of the 
players in the game of croquet, being es¬ 
corted to and from the scene by Francis 
Barold. Perhaps it occurred to Lady Theo- 
oald that the contrast of English reserve 
and maidenliness with the free-and-easy 
taanners of young women from Nevada 
Alight lead to some good result. 

“I trust your conduct will be such as 
<o show that you at least have resided in 
a civilized land,” she said. “The men ©f 
the present day may permit themselves to be 
amused by young persons whose demeanor 
might bring a blush to the cheek of a woman 
of forty, but it is not their habit to regard 
them with serious intentions.” 

Lucia reddened. She did not speak, 
though she wished very much for the cour¬ 
age to utter the words which rose to her 


144 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


lips. Lately she had found that now and 
then, at times when she was roused to anger, 
speeches of quite a clever and sarcastic 
nature presented themselves to her mind. 
She was never equal to uttering them aloud; 
but she felt that in time she might, because 
of course it was quite an advance in spirit 
to think them, and face, even in imagina¬ 
tion, the probability of astounding and 
striking Lady Theobald dumb with their 
audacity. 

“ It ought to make me behave very well,” 
she was saying now to herself, “ to have be¬ 
fore me the alternative of not being regarded 
with serious intentions. I wonder if it is 
Mr. Poppleton or Francis Barold who might 
not regard me seriously. And I wonder if 
they are any coarser in America than we 
can be in England when we try.” 

She enjoyed the afternoon very much, 
particularly the latter part of it, when Mr, 
Burmistone, who was passing, came in, being 
invited by Octavia across the privet hedge. 
Having paid his respects to Miss Belinda, 
who sat playing propriety under a laburnum- 
tree, Mr. Burmistone crossed the grass-plai 


CROQUET. 


146 


to Lucia herself. She was awaiting her 
“ turn/’ and laughing at the ardent enthusi¬ 
asm of Mr. Poppleton, who, under Octavia’s 
direction, was devoting all his energies to 
the game: her eyes were bright, and she had 
lost, for the time being, her timid air of feel¬ 
ing herself somehow in the wrong. 

“I am glad to see you here,” said Mr. 
Bunaistone. 

“1 am glad to be here,” she answered. 
“ It has been such a happy afternoon. 
Every thing has seemed so bright and — and 
different! ” 

“‘Different’ is a very good word,” he 
said, laughing. 

“ It isn’t a very bad one,” she returned, 
“ and it expresses a good deal.” 

“ It does indeed,” he commented. 

“Look at Mr. Poppleton and Octavia,” 
she began. 

“Have you got to ‘Octavia’?” he in¬ 
quired. 

She looked down and blushed. 

“I shall not say ‘Octavia’ to grand 
mamma.” 

Then suddenly she glanced up at him 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


146 


“ That is sly, isn’t it ? ” she said. “ Some 
times I think I am very sly, though I am 
sure it is not my nature to be so. I would 
rather be open and candid.” 

“ It would be better,” he remarked. 

“ You think so ? ” she asked eagerly. 

He could not help smiling. 

“ Do you ever tell untruths to Lady Theo¬ 
bald?” he inquired. “If you do, I shall 
begin to be alarmed.” 

“I act them,” she said, blushing more 
deeply. “I really do — paltry sorts of un¬ 
truths, you know; pretending to agree with 
her when I don’t; pretending to like things 
a little when I hate them. I have been try¬ 
ing to improve myself lately, and once or 
twice it has made her very angry. She says 
I am disobedient and disrespectful. She 
asked me, one day, if it was my intention to 
emulate Miss Octavia Bassett. That was 
when I said I could not help feeling that I 
had wasted time in practising.” 

She sighed softly as she ended. 

In the mean time Octavia had Mr. Pop- 
pleton and Mr. Francis Barold upon her 
hands, and was endeavoring to do her duty 


CROQUET. 


147 

as hostess by both of them. If it had been 
her intention to captivate these gentlemen, 
she could not have complained that Mr. 
Poppleton was wary or difficult game. His 
first fears allayed, his downward path was 
smooth, and rapid in proportion. When he 
had taken his departure with the little silk 
purse in his keeping, he had carried under 
his clerical vest a warmed and thrilled heart 
It was a heart which, it must be confessed, 
was of the most inexperienced and suscep¬ 
tible nature. A little man of affectionate 
and gentle disposition, he had been given 
from his earliest youth to indulging in timid 
dreams of mild future bliss, —of bliss rep¬ 
resented by some lovely being whose ideals 
were similar to his own, and who preferred 
the wealth of a true affection to the glitter 
of the giddy throng. Upon one or two occa¬ 
sions, he had even worshipped from afar; 
but as on each of these occasions his hopes 
had been nipped in the bud by the union of 
their object with some hollow worldling, his 
dream had, so far, never attained very serious 
proportions. Since he had taken up his 
abode in Slowbridge, he had felt himself a 


148 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


little overpowered by circumstances. It had 
been a source of painful embarrassment to 
him, to find his innocent presence capable of 
producing confusion in the breasts of young 
ladies who were certainly not more guileless 
than himself. He had been conscious that 
the Misses Egerton did not continue their 
conversation with freedom when he chanced 
to approach the group they graced; and he 
had observed the same thing in their com¬ 
panions,— an additional circumspection of 
demeanor, so to speak, a touch of new deco¬ 
rum, whose object seemed to be to protect 
them from any appearance of imprudence. 

“It is almost as if they were afraid of 
me,” he had said to himself once or twice. 
“ Dear me I I hope there is nothing in my 
appearance to lead them to ” — 

He was so much alarmed by this dreadful 
thought, that he had ever afterward ap¬ 
proached any of these young ladies with a 
fear and trembling which had not added 
either to his comfort or their own; conse¬ 
quently his path had not been a very smooth 
one. 

“I respect the young ladies of Slow 


CROQUET 


140 


bridge,” he remarked to Octavia that very 
afternoon. “ There are some very remarka¬ 
ble young ladies here, — very remarkable 
indeed. They are interested in the church, 
and the poor, and the schools, and, indeed, 
in every thing, which is most unselfish and 
amiable. Young ladies have usually so much 
to distract their attention from such matters.” 

“If I stay long enough in Slowbridge,” 
said Octavia, “I shall be interested in the 
church, and the poor, and the schools.” 

It seemed to the curate that there had 
never been any thing so delightful in the 
world as her laugh and her unusual remarks. 
She seemed to him so beautiful, and so ex¬ 
hilarating, that he forgot all else but his 
admiration for her. He enjoyed himself so 
much this afternoon, that he was almost 
brilliant, and excited the sarcastic comment 
of Mr. Francis Barold, who was not enjoy¬ 
ing himself at all. 

“ Confound it! ” said that gentleman to 
himself, as he looked on. “What did I 
come here for? This style of thing is just 
what I might have expected. She is amus¬ 
ing herself with that poor little cad now 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


m 

and I am left in the cold. I suppose that it 
her habit with the young men in Nevada.” 

He had no intention of entering the lists 
with the Rev. Arthur Poppleton, or of con¬ 
cealing the fact that he felt that this little 
Nevada flirt was making a blunder. The 
sooner she knew it, the better for herself; so 
he played his game as badly as possible, and 
with much dignity. 

But Octavia was so deeply interested in 
Mr. Poppleton’s ardent efforts to do credit 
t© her teaching, that she was apparently un¬ 
conscious of all else. She played with great 
cleverness, and carried her partner to the 
terminus, with an eager enjoyment of her 
skill quite pleasant to behold. She made 
little darts here and there, advised, directed, 
and controlled his movements, and was quite 
dramatic in a small way when he made a 
failure. 

Mrs. Burnham, who was superintending 
the proceeding, seated in her own easy-chair 
behind her window-curtains, was roused te 
virtuous indignation by her energy. 

“ There is no repose whatever in her man¬ 
ner,” she said. “ No dignity. Is a game of 


CROQUET. 


151 


croquet a matter of deep moment ? It seems 
to me that it is almost impious to devote 
one’s mind so wholly to a mere means of 
recreation.” 

“She seems to be enjoying it, mamma,” 
said Miss Laura Burnham, with a faint sigh. 
Miss Laura had been looking on over her 
parent’s shoulder. “ They all seem to be 
enjoying it. See how Lucia Gaston and Mr. 
Burmistone are laughing. I never saw Lu¬ 
cia look like that before. The only one who 
seems a little dull is Mr. Barold.” 

“Ke is probably disgusted by a freedom 
of manner to which he is not accustomed,” 
replied Mrs. Burnham. “ The only wonder 
is that he has not been disgusted by it 
before.” 


152 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

ADVANTAGES. 

The game over, Octavia deserted her part* 
aer. She walked lightly, and with the air of 
a victor, to where Barold was standing. She 
was smiling, and slightly flushed, and for a 
moment or so stood fanning herself with a 
gay Japanese fan. 

“ Don’t you think I am a good teacher ? ” 
she asked at length. 

“I should say so,” replied Barold, without 
enthusiasm. “ I am afraid I am not a judge.” 

She waved her fan airily. 

“ I had a good pupil,” she said. Then she 
held her fan still for a moment, and turned 
fully toward him. “ I have done something 
you don’t like,” she said. “ I knew I had.” 

Mr. Francis Barold retired within himself 
at once. In his present mood it really ap¬ 
peared that she was assuming that he was 
very much interested indeed. 


advantages. 


153 


“I should scarcely take the liberty upon 
a limited acquaintance,” he began. 

She looked at him steadily, fanning herself 
with slow, regular movements. 

“Yes,” she remarked. “You’re mad. I 
knew you were.” 

He was so evidently disgusted by this 
observation, that she caught at the meaning 
of his look, and laughed a little. 

“ Ah! ” she said, “ that’s. an American 
word, ain’t it? It sounds queer to you. 
You say ‘ vexed ’ instead of ‘ mad.’ Well, 
then, you are vexed.” 

“If I have been so clumsy as to appear 
ill-humored,” he said, “ I beg pardon. Cer¬ 
tainly I have no right to exhibit such 
unusual interest in your conduct.” 

He felt that this was rather decidedly to 
the point, but she did not seem overpowered 
at all. She smiled anew. 

“Anybody has a right to be mad — I 
mean vexed,” she observed. “ I should like 
to know how people would live if they 
hadn’t. I am mad — I mean vexed — twenty 
times a day.” 

“ Indeed ? ” was his sole reply. 


154 


A FAIR BARBARIAN, 


“ Well,” she said, “ I think it’s real mean 
in you to be so cool about it when you 
remember what I told you the other day.” 

“I regret to say I don’t remember just 
now. I hope it was nothing very serious.” 

To his astonishment she looked down at 
her fan, and spoke in a slightly lowered 
voice: — 

“I told you that I wanted to be im¬ 
proved.” 

It must be confessed that he was mollified. 
There was a softness in her manner which 
amazed him. He was at once embarrassed 
and delighted. But, at the same time, it 
would not do to commit himself to too great 
a seriousness. 

“Oh!” he answered, “that was a rather 
good joke, I thought.” 

“No, it wasn’t,” she said, perhaps even 
half a tone lower. “ I was in earnest.” 

Then she raised her eyes. 

“If you told me when I did any thing 
wrong, I think it might be a good thing,” she 
said. 

He felt that this was quite possible, and 
was also struck with the idea that he might 


advantages. 


166 


find the task of mentor — so long as he re 
mained entirely non-committal —rather inter¬ 
esting. Still, he could not afford to descend 
at once from the elevated stand he had 
taken. 

44 I am afraid you would find it rather tire¬ 
some,” he remarked. 

“I am afraid you would,” she answered. 
44 You would have to tell me of things so 
often.” 

44 Do you mean seriously to tell me that 
you would take my advice ? ” he inquired. 

44 1 mightn’t take all of it,” was her reply; 
44 but I should take some — perhaps a great 
deal.” 

44 Thanks,” he remarked. 44 1 scarcely 
think I should give you a great deal.” 

She simply smiled. 

44 1 have never had any advice at all,” she 
said. “I don’t know that I should have 
taken it if I had—just as likely as not I 
shouldn’t; but I have never had any. Father 
spoiled me. He gave me all my own way. 
He said he didn’t care, so long as I had a 
good time; and I must say I have generally 
had a good time. I don’t see how I could 


156 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


help it — with all my own way, and no one 
to worry. I wasn’t sick, and I could buy 
any thing I liked, and all that: so I had a 
good time. I’ve read of girls, in books, wish 
ing they had mothers to take care of them. 
I don’t know that I ever wished for one par¬ 
ticularly. I can take care of myself. I 
must say, too, that I don’t think some mothers 
are much of an institution. I know girls 
who have them, and they are always worry¬ 
ing.” 

He laughed in spite of himself; and though 
she had been speaking with the utmost seri¬ 
ousness and naivety, she joined him. 

When they ceased, she returned suddenly 
to the charge. 

“ Now tell me what I have done this after¬ 
noon that isn’t right,” she said, — “that 
Lucia Gaston wouldn’t have done, for in¬ 
stance. I say that, because I shouldn’t mind 
being a little like Lucia Gaston — in some 
things.” 

“Lucia ought to feel gratified,” he com¬ 
mented. 

“She does,” she answered. “We had a 
little talk about it, and she was as pleased 


ADVANTAGES. 


157 


as could be. I didn’t think of it in that way 
until I saw her begin to blush. Guess what 
she said.” 

“ I am afraid I can’t.” 

“ She said she saw so many things to envy 
in me, that she could scarcely believe I 
wanted to be at all like her.” 

“ It was a very civil speech,” said Barold 
ironically. “ I scarcely thought Lady Theo¬ 
bald had trained her so well.” 

“She meant it,” said Octavia. “You 
mayn’t believe it, but she did. I know 
when people mean things, and when they 
don’t.” 

“ I wish I did,” said Barold. 

Octavia turned her attention to her fan. 

“Well, I am waiting,” she said. 

“ Waiting?” he repeated. 

“ To be told of my faults.” 

“But I scarcely see of what importance 
my opinion can be.” 

“It is of some importance to me—just 
now.” 

The last two words rendered him really 
^patient, and, it may be, spurred him up. 

“If we are to take Lucia Gaston as a 


158 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


model,” he said, “Lucia Gaston would pos¬ 
sibly not have been so complaisant in her 
demeanor toward our clerical friend.” 

“Complaisant!” she exclaimed, opening 
her lovely eyes. “ When I was actually 
plunging about the garden, trying to teach 
him to play. Well, I shouldn’t call that 
being complaisant.” 

“Lucia Gaston,” he replied, “would not 
say that she had been ‘ plunging ’ about the 
garden.” 

She gave herself a moment for reflection. 

” “ That’s true,” she remarked, when it was 
over: “ she wouldn’t. When I compare my¬ 
self with the Slowbridge girls, I begin to 
think I must say some pretty awful things.” 

Barold made no reply, which caused her 
to laugh a little again. 

“ You daren’t tell me,” she said. “ Now, 
do I? Well, I don’t think I want to know 
very particularly. What Lady Theobald 
thinks will last quite a good while. Com¬ 
plaisant ! ” 

“ I am sorry you object to the word,” he 
said. 

“ Oh, I don’t J ” she answered. “ I like it. 


ADVANTAGES. 


159 


It sounds so much more polite than to say 
I was flirting and being fast.” 

“ Were you flirting?” he inquired coldly. 

He objected to her ready serenity very 
much. 

She looked a little puzzled. 

“You are very like aunt Belinda,” she 
said. 

He drew himself up. He did not think 
there was any point of resemblance at all 
between Miss Belinda and himself. 

She went on, without observing his move¬ 
ment. 

“ You think every thing means something, 
or is of some importance. You said that 
just as aunt Belinda says, ‘What will they 
think ? ’ It never occurs to me that they’ll 
think at all. Gracious ! Why should they ? ” 

“ You will find they do,” he said. 

“ Well,” she said, glancing at the group 
gathered under the laburnum-tree, “just 
now aunt Belinda thinks we had better go 
over to her; so, suppose we do it ? At any 
rate, I found out that I was too complaisant 
to Mr. Poppleton.” 

When the party separated for the after 


160 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


noon, Barold took Lucia home, and Mr 
Burmistone and the curate walked down the 
street together. 

Mr. Poppleton was indeed most agreeably 
exhilarated. His expressive little counte¬ 
nance beamed with delight. 

“ What a very charming person Miss Bas¬ 
sett is! ” he exclaimed, after they had left 
the gate. “ What a very charming person 
indeed! ” 

“Very charming,” said Mr. Burmistone 
with much seriousness. “ A prettier young 
person I certainly have never seen; and 
those wonderful gowns of hers ”— 

“Oh!” interrupted Mr. Poppleton, with 
natural confusion, “I — referred to Miss 
Belinda Bassett; though,, really, what you 
6ay is very true. Miss Octavia Bassett — 
indeed — I think — in fact, Miss Octavia 
Bassett is quite , one might almost say even 
more, charming than her aunt.” 

“Yes,” admitted Mr. Burmistone; “per¬ 
haps one might. She is less ripe, it is true, 
but that is an objection time will remove.” 

“ There is such a delightful gayety in her 
manner I ” said Mr. Poppleton ; “ such an 


ADVANTAGES. 


161 


ingenuous frankness I such a — a — such 
spirit I It quite carries me away with it, — 
quite.” 

He walked a few steps, thinking over this 
delightful gayety and ingenuous frankness; 
and then burst out afresh, — 

“ And what a remarkable life she has had 
too! She actually told me, that, once in her 
childhood, she lived for months in a gold- 
diggers’ camp, — the only woman there 
She says the men were kind to her, and 
made a pet of her. She has known the most 
extraordinary people.” 

In the mean time Francis Barold returned 
Lucia to Lady Theobald’s safe keeping. 
Having done so, he made his adieus, and 
left the two to themselves. Her ladyship 
was, it must be confessed, a little at a loss 
to explain to herself what she saw, or fancied 
she saw, in the manner and appearance of 
her young relative. She was persuaded that 
she had never seen Lucia look as she looked 
this afternoon. She had a brighter color in 
her cheeks than usual, her pretty figure 
seemed more erect, her eyes had a spirit in 
them which was quite new. She had chatted 


102 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


and laughed gayly with Francis Barold, aa 
6he approached the house; and after hia 
departure she moved to and fro with a free¬ 
dom not habitual to her. 

“He has been making himself agreeable 
to her,” said my lady, with grim pleasure. 
“ He can do it if he chooses; and he is just 
the man to please a girl, — good-looking, and 
with a fine, domineering air.” 

“How did you enjoy yourself?” she 
asked. 

“ Very much,” said Lucia; “ never more, 
thank you.” 

“ Oh! ” ejaculated my lady. “ And which 
of her smart New-York gowns did Miss 
Octavia Bassett wear ? ” 

They were at the dinner-table; and, in¬ 
stead of looking down at her soup, Lucia 
looked quietly and steadily across the table 
at her grandmother. 

“ She wore a very pretty one,” she said: 
“ it was pale fawn-color, and fitted her like a 
glove. She made me feel very old-fashioned 
and badly dressed.” 

Lady Theobald laid down her spoon. 

“She made you feel old-fashioned and 
badly dressed, — vou! ” 


ADVANTAGES. 


163 


“Yw,” responded Lucia: “she always 
does. I wonder what she thinks of the 
things we wear in Slowbridge.” And she 
even went to the length of smiling a little. 

“What she thinks of what is worn in 
Slowbridge!” Lady Theobald ejaculated. 
“She! may I ask what weight the opinion 
of a young woman from America — from 
Nevada — is supposed to have in Slow 
bridge ? ” 

Lucia took a spoonful of soup in a leisurely 
manner. 

“ I don’t think it is supposed to have any; 
but — but I don’t think she minds that. I 
feel as if I shouldn’t if I were in her place. 
I have always thought her very lucky.” 

“ You have thought her lucky! ” cried my 
lady. “You have envied a Nevada young 
woman, who dresses like an actress, and loads 
herself with jewels like a barbarian ? A girl 
whose conduct toward men is of a character 
to — to chill one’s blood! ” 

“They admire her,” said Lucia simply, 
“ more than they admire Lydia Egerton, and 
more than they admire me.” 

“ Do you admire her ? ” demanded my lady 


164 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“ Yes, grandmamma,” replied Lucia cour 
ageously. “ I think I do.” 

Never had my lady been so astounded in 
her life. For a moment she could scarcely 
speak. When she recovered herself sh* 
pointed to the door. 

“ Go to your room,” she commanded. 
“ This is American freedom of speech, I sup 
pose. Go to your room.” 

Lucia rose obediently. She could not help 
wondering what her ladyship’s course would 
be if she had the hardihood to disregard her 
order. She really looked quite capable of 
carrying it out forcibly herself. When the 
girl stood at her bedroom window, a few 
minutes later, her cheeks were burning and 
her hands trembling. 

“ I am afraid it was very badly done,” she 
said to herself. “ I am sure it was; but — 
but it will be a kind of practice. I was in 
such a hurry to try if I were equal to it, that 
I didn’t seem to balance things quite rightly. 
I ought to have waited until I had more rea¬ 
son to speak out. Perhaps there wasn’t 
enough reason then, and I was more aggres¬ 
sive than I ought to have been. O eta via is 


advantages. 


106 


never aggressive. I wonder if I was at all 
pert. I don’t think Octavia ever means to 
be pert. I felt a little as if I meant to be 
pert. I must learn to balance n^yself, and 
only be cool and frank.” 

Then she looked out of the window, and 
reflected a little. 

“ I was not so very brave, after all,” she 
said, rather reluctantly. “I didn’t tell her 
Mr. Burmistone was there. I daren’t have 
done that. I am afraid 1 am sly — that 
sounds sly, I am sura.” 


166 


A FAIR BARBAR1AB 


CHAPTER xvni. 

CONTRAST. 

“ Lady Theobald will put a stop to it,’” 
was the general remark. “ It will certainly 
not occur again.” 

This was said upon the evening of the first 
gathering upon Miss Belinda’s grass-plat, and 
at the same time it was prophesied that Mr. 
Francis Barold would soon go away. 

But neither of the prophecies proved true. 
Mr. Francis Barold did not return to London; 
and, strange to say, Lucia was seen again 
and again playing croquet with O eta via 
Bassett, and was even known to spend even¬ 
ings with her. 

Perhaps it might be that an appeal made 
by Miss Belinda to her ladyship had caused 
her to allow of these things. Miss Belinda 
had, in fact, made a private call upon my 
lady, to lay her case before her. 

“ I feel so very timid about every thing,” 


CONTBABT. 


167 


she said, almost with tears, “and so fearful 
of trusting myself, that I really find it quite 
a trial. The dear child has such a kind 
heart — I assure you she has a kind heart, 
dear Lady Theobald, — and is so innocent of 
any intention to do wrong — lam sure she is 
innocent, — that it seems cruel to judge her 
severely. If she had had the benefit of such 
training as dear Lucia’s, I am convinced that 
her conduct would have been most exem¬ 
plary. She sees herself that she has faults: 
I am sure she does. She said to me only 
last night, in that odd way of hers, — she 
had been sitting, evidently thinking deeply, 
for some minutes, — and she said, ‘ I wonder 
if I shouldn’t be nicer if I were more like 
Lucia Gaston.’ You see what turn her 
mind must have taken. She admires Lucia 
so much.” 

“ Yesterday evening at dinner,” said Lady 
Theobald severely, “ Lucia informed me 
that she admired your niece. The feeling 
seems to be mutual.” 

Miss Belinda colored, and brightened visi¬ 
bly. 

“ Pid she, indeed ? ” she exclaimed. “ How 


168 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


pleased Octavia will be to hear it! Did she, 
indeed ? ” Then, warned by a chilliness, and 
lack of response, in her ladyship’s manner, 
she modified her delight, and became apolo¬ 
getic again. “ These young people are more 
— are less critical than we are,” she sighed. 
“ Octavia’s great prettiness ” — 

“ I think,” Lady Theobald interposed, 
“ that Lucia has been taught to feel that the 
body is corruptible, and subject to decay, 
and that mere beauty is of small moment.” 

Miss Belinda sighed again. 

“ That is very true,” she admitted depre 
catingly; “ very true indeed.” 

“ It is to be hoped that Octavia’s stay in 
Slowbridge will prove beneficial to her,” said 
her ladyship in her most judicial manner. 
“ The atmosphere is wholly unlike that which 
has surrounded her during her previous life.” 

“ I am sure it will prove beneficial to her,” 
said Miss Belinda eagerly. “The compan¬ 
ionship of well-trained and refined young 
people cannot fail to be of use to her. Such 
a companion as Lucia would be, if you would 
kindly permit her to spend an evening with 
vs now and then, would certainly improve 


CONTRAST . 


169 


and modify her greatly. Mr. Francis Barold 
is — is, I think, of the same opinion; at 
least, I fancied I gathered as much from a 
few words he let fall.” 

“ Francis Barold ? ” repeated Lady Theo¬ 
bald. “ And what did Francis Barold say ? ” 

“ Of course it was but very little,” hesi¬ 
tated Miss Belinda; “ but — but I could not 
help seeing that he was drawing comparisons, 
as it were. Octavia was teaching Mr. Pop- 
pleton to play croquet; and she was rather 
exhilarated, and perhaps exhibited more — 
freedom of manner, in an innocent way,— 
quite in an innocent, thoughtless way, — than 
is exactly customary; and I saw Mr. Barold 
glance from her to Lucia, who stood near; 
and when I said, ‘You are thinking of the 
contrast between them,’ he answered, ‘Yes, 
they differ very greatly, it is true; ’ and of 
course I knew that my poor Octavia could 
not have the advantage in his eyes. She 
feels this herself, I know. She shocked me 
the other day, beyond expression, by telling 
me that she had asked him if he thought she 
was really fast, and that she was sure he 
did. Poor child! she evidently did not com 


ITO 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


prehend the dreadful significance of such 
terms.” 

“ A man like Francis Barold does under¬ 
stand their significance,” said Lady Theo¬ 
bald; “and it is to be deplored that your 
niece cannot be taught what her position in 
society will be if such a reputation attaches 
itself to her. The men of the present day 
fight shy of such characters.” 

This dread clause so impressed poor Miss 
Belinda by its solemnity, that she could not 
forbear repeating it to O eta via afterward, 
though it is to be regretted that it did not 
produce the effect she had hoped. 

“Well, I must say,” she observed, “that 
if some men fought a little shyer than they 
do, I shouldn’t mind it. You always do have 
about half a dozen dangling around, who 
only bore you, and who will keep asking you 
to go to places, and sending you bouquets, 
and asking you to dance when they can’t 
dance at all, and only tear your dress, and 
stand on /our feet. If they would ‘fight 
shy,’ it would be splendid.” 

To Miss Belinda, who certainly had never 
been guilty of the indecorum of having any 


CONTRAST 


171 


member of the stronger sex “ dangling about ” 
at all, this was very trying. 

“ My dear,” she said, “ don’t say ‘ you 
always have; ’ it — it really seems to make 
it so personal.” 

O eta via turned around, and fixed her eyes 
wonderingly upon her blushing countenance. 
For a moment she made no remark, a mar¬ 
vellous thought shaping itself slowly in her 
mind. 

“ Aunt Belinda,” she said at length, “ did 
nobody ever ” — 

“ Ah, no, my dear! No, no, I assure you! ” 
cried Miss Belinda, in the greatest possible 
trepidation. “ Ah, dear, no ! Such — such 
things rarely — very rarely happen in — 
Slowbridge ; and, besides, I couldn’t possibly 
have thought of it. I couldn’t, indeed ! ” 

She was so overwhelmed with maidenly 
confusion at the appalling thought, that she 
did not recover herself for half an hour at 
least. Octavia, feeling that it would not be 
safe to pursue the subject, only uttered one 
word of comment, — 

“ Gracious! ” 


m 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

AN EXPERIMENT. 

Much to her own astonishment, Lucia 
found herself allowed new liberty. She was 
permitted to spend the afternoon frequently 
with Octavia; and on several occasions that 
young lady and Miss Bassett were invited to 
partake of tea at Oldclough in company with 
no other guest than Francis Barold. 

“ I don’t know what it means, and I think 
it must mean something,” said Lucia to 
Octavia ; “ but it is very pleasant. I never 
was allowed to be so intimate with any one 
before.” 

“ Perhaps,” suggested Octavia sagely, “ she 
thinks, that, if you see me often enough, you 
will get sick of me, and it will be a lesson to 

you.” 

“ The more I see of you,” answered Lucia 
with a serious little air, “ the fonder I am of 
you. I understand you better. You are 


AN EXPERIMENT. 


178 


not at all like what I thought you at first, 
Octavia.” 

“ But I don’t know that there’s much to 
understand in me.” 

“There is a great deal to understand in 
you,” she replied. “ You are a puzzle to me 
often. You seem so frank, and yet one 
knows so little about you after all. For 
instance,” Lucia went on, “who would im¬ 
agine that you are so affectionate ? ” 

“ Am I affectionate ? ” she asked. 

“ Yes,” answered Lucia: “I am sure you 
are very affectionate. I have found it out 
gradually. You would suffer things for any 
one you loved.” 

Octavia thought the matter over. 

“ Yes,” she said at length, “ I would.” 

“ You are very fond of Miss Bassett,” 
proceeded Lucia, as if arraigning her at the 
bar of justice. “ You are very fond of your 
father; and I am sure there are other people 
you are very fond of — very fond of indeed.” 

Octavia pondered seriously again. 

“ Yes, there are,” she remarked; “ but no 
one would care about them here, and so 
I’m not going to make a fuss. You don’t 


174 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


want to make a fuss over people you 
l-like.” 

u You don’t,’’ said Lucia. “You are like 
Francis Bar old in one way, but you are 
altogether different in another. Francis 
Barold does not wish to show emotion; and 
he is so determined to hedge himself around, 
that one can’t help suspecting that he is 
always guarding himself against one. He 
seems always to be resenting any interfer¬ 
ence ; but you do not appear to care at all, 
and so it is not natural that one should sus¬ 
pect you. I did not suspect you.” 

“ What do you suspect me of now ? ” 

“Of thinking a great deal,” answered 
Lucia affectionately. “ And of being very 
clever and very good.” 

Octavia was silent for a few moments. 

“I think,” she said after the pause, — “I 
think you’ll find out that it’s a mistake.” 

“No, I shall not,” returned Lucia, quite 
glowing with enthusiasm. “ And I know I 
shall learn a great deal from you.” 

This was such a startling proposition that 
Octavia felt decidedly uncomfortable. Sh« 
flushed rosy red. 


AN EXPERIMENT. 


175 


“I’m the one who ought to learn things, 
[ think,” she said. “I’m always doing 
things that frighten aunt Belinda, and you 
know how the rest regard me.” 

“ Octavia,” said Lucia, very naively in¬ 
deed, “suppose we try to help each other. 
If you will tell me when I am wrong, I will 
try to — to have the courage to tell you. 
That will be good practice for me. What 
I want most is courage and frankness, and I 
am sure it will take courage to make up my 
mind to tell you of your — of your mistakes.” 

Octavia regarded her with mingled ad¬ 
miration and respect. 

“ I think that’s a splendid idea,” she said. 

“ Are you sure,” faltered Lucia, “ are you 
sure you won’t mind the things I may have 
to say ? Really, they are quite little things 
in themselves — hardly worth mention¬ 
ing”— 

“Tell me one of them, right now,” said 
Octavia, point-blank. 

“ Oh, no! ” exclaimed Lucia, starting. 
“I’d rather not—just now.” 

“ Well,” commented Octavia, “ that sounds 
as if they must be pretty unpleasant. Why 


176 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


don’t you want to? They will be quite ai 
bad to-morrow. And to refuse to tell me 
one is a bad beginning. It looks as if you 
were frightened; and it isn’t good practice 
for you to be frightened at such a little 
thing.” 

Luoia felt convicted. She made an effort 
to regain her composure. 

“No, it is not,” she said. “But that is 
always the way. I am continually telling 
myself that I will be courageous and candid; 
and, the first time any thing happens, I fail. 
I will tell you one thing.” 

She stopped short here, and looked at 
Octavia guiltily. 

“ It is something — I think I would do if 
— if I were in your place,” Lucia stammered. 
“ A very little thing indeed.” 

“Well?” remarked Octavia anxiously. 

Lucia lost her breath, caught it again, and 
proceeded cautiously, and with blushes at 
her own daring. 

“If I were in your place,” she said, “I 
think — that, perhaps — only perhaps, you 
know — I would not wear — my hair — quitf 
so low dowp over my forehead.” 


AN EXPERIMENT. 


177 


Octavia sprang from her seat, and ran to 
She pier-glass over the mantle. She glanced 
at the reflection of her own startled, pretty 
face, and then, putting her hand up to the 
soft blonde “bang” which met her brows, 
turned to Lucia. 

“Isn’t it becoming?” she asked breath¬ 
lessly. 

“ Oh, yes! ” Lucia answered. “ Very.” 

Octavia started. 

“ Then, why wouldn’t you wear it ? ” she 
cried. “ What do you mean ? ” 

Lucia felt her position truly a delicate one. 
She locked her hands, and braced herself; 
but she blushed vividly. 

“ It may sound rather silly when I tell you 
why, Octavia,” she said; “but I really do 
think it is a sort of reason. You know, in 
those absurd pictures of actresses, bangs 
always seem to be the principal feature. I 
saw some in the shop-windows when I went 
to Harriford with grandmamma. And they 
were such dreadful women, — some of them, 
— and had so very few clothes on, that I 
can’t help thinking I shouldn’t like to look 
like them, and ” — 


ITS 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


“ Does it make me look like them ? 

“ Oh, very little! ” answered Lucia; “ very 
little indeed, of course; but ” — 

“But it’s the same thing after all,” put in 
Octavia. “ That’s what you mean.” 

“ It is so very little,” faltered Lucia, “ that 
— that perhaps it isn’t a reason.” 

Octavia looked at herself in the glass again. 

“ It isn’t a very good reason,” she remarked, 
“ but I suppose it will do.” 

She paused, and looked Lucia in the face. 

“I don’t think that’s a little thing,” she 
said. “To be told you look like an opSra 
bouffe actress.” 

“ I did not mean to say so,” cried Lucia, 
filled with the most poignant distress. “I 
beg your pardon, indeed — I — oh, dear! 1 

was afraid you wouldn’t like it. I felt that 
it was taking a great liberty.” 

“ I don’t like it,” answered Octavia; “but 
that can’t be helped. I didn’t exactly sup¬ 
pose I should. But I wasn’t going to say 
any thing about your hair when I began,” 
glancing at poor Lucia’s coiffure, “ though I 
suppose I might.” 

“ You might say a thousand things about 


AN EXPERIMENT. 


179 


it i ” cried Lucia piteously. “I know that 
mine is not only in bad taste, but it is ugly 
and unbecoming.’’ 

“Yes,” said Octavia cruelly, “it is.” 

“And yours is neither the one nor the 
other,” protested Lucia. “ You know I told 
you it was pretty, Octavia.” 

Octavia walked over to the table, upon 
which stood Miss Belinda’s work-basket, and 
took therefrom a small and gleaming pair of 
scissors, returning to the mantle-glass with 
them. 

“ How short shall I cut it ? ” she demanded. 

“ Oh! ” exclaimed Lucia, “ don’t, don’t! ” 

For answer, Octavia raised the scissors, 
and gave a snip. It was a savage snip, and 
half the length and width of her love-locks 
fell on the mantle; then she gave another 
snip, and the other half fell. 

Lucia scarcely dared to breathe. 

For a moment Octavia stood gazing at 
herself, with pale face and dilated eyes. 
Then suddenly the folly of the deed she had 
done seemed to reveal itself to her. 

“ Oh ! ” she cried out. “ Oh, how diaboli 
eal it looks! ” 


180 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


She turned upon Lucia. 

“Why did you make me do it?” she ex¬ 
claimed. “ It’s all your fault — every bit of 
it; ” and, flinging the scissors to the other 
end of the room, she threw herself into a 
chair, and burst into tears. 

Lucia’s anguish of mind was almost more 
than she could bear. For at least three 
minutes she felt herself a criminal of the 
deepest dye; after the three minutes had 
elapsed, however, she began to reason, and 
called to mind the fact that she was failing 
as usual under her crisis. 

“This is being a coward again,” she said 
to herself. “It is worse than to have said 
nothing. It is true that she will look more 
refined, now one can see a little of her fore¬ 
head ; and it is cowardly to be afraid to stand 
firm when I really think so. I — yes, I will 
say something to her.” 

“ Octavia,” she began aloud, “ I am sure 
you are making a mistake again.” This as 
decidedly as possible, which was not very 
decidedly. “You — you look very much — 
nicer.” 

“ I look ghastly ! ” said Octavia, who began 
to feel rather absurd. 


AN EXPERIMENT. 


181 


“ You do not. Your forehead — you have 
the prettiest forehead I ever saw, Octavia,” 
said Lucia eagerly; “ and your eyebrows are 
perfect. I — wish you would look at your¬ 
self again.” 

Rather to her surprise, Octavia began to 
laugh under cover of her handkerchief: re¬ 
action had set in, and, though the laugh was 
a trifle hysterical, it was still a laugh. Next 
she gave her eyes a final little dab, and rose 
to go to the glass again. She looked at her 
self, touched up the short, waving fringe 
left on her forehead, and turned to Lucia, 
with a resigned expression. 

“ Do you think that any one who was used 
to seeing it the other way would — would 
think I looked horrid ?” she inquired anx¬ 
iously. 

“ They would think you prettier, — a great 
deal,” Lucia answered earnestly. “Don’t 
you know, Octavia, that nothing could be 
really unbecoming to you ? You have that 
kind of face." 

For a few seconds Octavia seemed to lose 
herself in thought of a speculative nature. 

“Jack always said so,” she remarked at 
■ength. 


182 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“ Jack! ” repeated Lucia timidly. 

O eta via roused herself, and smiled with 
candid sweetness. 

“ He is some one I knew in Nevada,” she 
explained. “ He worked in father’s mine 
once.” 

“You must have known him very well,” 
suggested Lucia, somewhat awed. 

“ I did,” she replied calmly. “ Very well.” 

She tucked away her pocket-handkerchief 
in the jaunty pocket at the back of her 
basque, and returned to her chair. Then 
she turned again to Lucia. 

“ Well,” she said, “I think you have found 
out that you were mistaken, haven’t you, 
dear? Suppose you tell me of something 
else.” 

Lucia colored. 

“ No,” she answered : “ that is enough for 
fco-day.” 


FXVULIAX TO NEVAIja 


18^ 


CHAPTER XX. 

PECULIAR TO NEVADA. 

Whether, or not, Lucia was right in ac¬ 
cusing Octavia Bassett of being clever, and 
thinking a great deal, is a riddle which those 
who are interested in her must unravel as 
they read; but, whether the surmise was cor¬ 
rect or incorrect, it seemed possible that she 
had thought a little after the interview. 
When Barold saw her next, he was struck 
by a slight but distinctly definable change he 
recognized in her dress and coiffure. Her 
pretty hair had a rather less “ professional ” 
appearance: he had the pleasure of observ¬ 
ing, for the first time, how very white hei 
forehead was, and how delicate the arch of 
her eyebrows ; her dress had a novel air of 
simplicity, and the diamond rings were no¬ 
where to be seen. 

“ She’s better dressed than usual,” he said 
to himself. “ And she’s always well dressed 


184 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


— rather too well dressed, fact is, for a place 
like this. This sort of thing is in better 
form, under the circumstances.” 

It was so much “better form,” and he so 
far approved of it, that he quite thawed, 
and was very amiable and very entertaining 
indeed. 

Octavia was entertaining too. She asked 
several most interesting questions. 

“ Do you think,” she inquired, “ that it is 
bad taste to wear diamonds ? ” 

“ My mother wears them — occasionally.” 

“ Have you any sisters ? ” 

“No.” 

“ Any cousins — as young as I am ? ” 

“ Ya-as.” 

“ Do they wear them ? ” 

“I must admit,” he replied, “that they 
don’t. In the first place, you know, they 
haven’t any; and, in the second, I am under 
the impression that Lady Beauchamp — their 
mamma, you know — wouldn’t permit it if 
they had.” 

“ Wouldn’t permit it! ” said Octavia. “ I 
suppose they always do as she tells them ? ” 
He smiled a little. 


PECULIAR TO NEVADA. 


185 


“They would be very courageous young 
women if they didn’t,” he remarked. 

“What would she do if they tried it?” 
she inquired. “ She couldn’t beat them.” 

“They will never try it,” he answered 
dryly. “And though I have never seen 
her beat them, or heard their lamentations 
under chastisement, I should not like to say 
that Lady Beauchamp could not do any 
thing. She is a very determined person — 
for a gentlewoman.” 

Octavia laughed. 

“ You are joking,” she said. 

“ Lady Beauchamp is a serious subject for 
jokes,” he responded. “My cousins think 
so, at least.” 

“ I wonder if she is as bad as Lady Theo¬ 
bald,” Octavia reflected aloud. “ She says I 
have no right to wear diamonds at all until 
I am married. But I don’t mind Lady 
Theobald,” she added, as a cheerful after¬ 
thought. “ I am not fond enough of her to 
care about what she says.” 

“Are you fond of any one?” Barold in¬ 
quired, speaking with a languid air, but hi 
the same time glancing at her with some 
alight interest from under his eyelids. 


186 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“ Lucia says I am,” she returned, with the 
calmness of a young person who wished to re¬ 
gard the matter from an unembarrassed point 
of view. “ Lucia says I am affectionate.” 

“ Ah! ” deliberately. “ Are you ? ” 

She turned, and looked at him serenely. 

“ Should you think so ? ” she asked. 

This was making such a personal matter 
of the question, that he did not exactly enjoy 
it. It was certainly not “good form” to 
pull a man up in such cool style. 

“Really,” he replied, “I — ah — have had 
no opportunity of judging.” 

He had not the slightest intention of being 
amusing, but to his infinite disgust he dis¬ 
covered as soon as he spoke that she was 
amused. She laughed outright, and evi¬ 
dently only checked herself because he 
looked so furious. In consideration for his 
feelings she assumed an air of mild but pre¬ 
ternatural seriousness. 

“No,” she remarked, “that is true: yen 
haven’t, of course.” 

He was silent. He did not enjoy being 
amusing at all, and he made no pretence of 
appearing to submit to the indignity calmly. 


PECULIAR TO NEVADA. 


187 


She bent forward a little. 

“ Ah! ” she exclaimed, “ you are mad 
again — I mean, you are vexed. I am al¬ 
ways vexing you.” 

There was a hint of appeal in her voice, 
which rather pleased him; but he had no 
intention of relenting at once. 

“I confess I am at a loss to know why 
you laughed,” he said. 

“Are you,” she asked, “really?” letting 
her eyes rest upon him anxiously for a 
moment. Then she actually gave vent to a 
little sigh. “We look at things so differ¬ 
ently, that’s it,” she said. 

“ I suppose it is,” he responded, still 
chillingly. 

In spite of this, she suddenly assumed a 
comparatively cheerful aspect. A happy 
thought occurred to her. 

“ Lucia would beg your pardon,” she said. 
“I am learning good manners from Lucia. 
Suppose I beg your pardon.” 

“ It is quite unnecessary,” he replied. 

“ Lucia wouldn’t think so,” she said. 
“ And why shouldn’t I be as well-behaved as 
Lucia ? I beg your pardon.” 


188 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


He felt rather absurd, and yet somewhat 
mollified. She had a way of looking at him, 
sometimes, when she had been unpleasant, 
which rather soothed him. In fact, he had 
found of late, a little to his private annoy¬ 
ance, that it was very easy for her either to 
soothe or disturb him. 

And now, just as Octavia had settled 
down into one of the prettiest and least 
difficult of her moods, there came a knock 
at the front door, which, being answered by 
Mary Anne, was found to announce the 
curate of St. James. 

Enter, consequently, the Rev. Arthur 
Poppleton, — blushing, a trifle timorous per¬ 
haps, but happy beyond measure to find 
himself in Miss Belinda’s parlor again, with 
Miss Belinda’s niece. 

Perhaps the least possible shade of his 
joyousness died out when he caught sight 
of Mr. Francis Barold, and certainly Mr. 
Francis Barold was not at all delighted to 
see him. 

“ What does the fellow want ? ” that gen¬ 
tleman was saying inwardly. “What does 
he come simpering and turning pink here 


PECULIAR TO NEVADA. 


189 


for? Why doesn’t he go and see some of 
his old women, and read tracts to them? 
That’s his business.” 

Octavia’s manner toward her visitor 
formed a fresh grievance for Barold. She 
treated the curate very well indeed. She 
seemed glad to see him, she was wholly at 
her ease with him, she made no trying re¬ 
marks to him, she never stopped to fix her 
eyes upon him in that inexplicable style, 
and she did not laugh when there seemed 
nothing to laugh at. She was so gay and 
good-humored that the Rev. Arthur Popple- 
ton beamed and flourished under her treat¬ 
ment, and forgot to change color, and even 
ventured to talk a good deal, and make 
divers quite presentable little jokes. 

“ I should like to know,” thought Barold, 
growing sulkier as the others grew merrier, 
— “I should like to know what she finds so 
interesting in him, and why she chooses to 
treat him better than she treats me; for she 
certainly does treat him better.” 

It was hardly fair, however, that he should 
complain; for, at times, he was treated ex¬ 
tremely well, and his intimacy with Octavia 


m 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


progressed quite rapidly. Perhaps, if the 
truth were told, it was always himself who 
was the first means of checking it, by some 
suddenly prudent instinct which led him to 
feel that perhaps he was in rather a delicate 
position, and had better not indulge in too 
much of a good thing. He had not been an 
eligible and unimpeachable desirable parti 
for ten years without acquiring some of that 
discretion which is said to be the better part 
of valor. The matter-of-fact air with which 
Octavia accepted his attentions caused him 
to pull himself up sometimes. If he had 
been Brown, or Jones, or even Robinson, she 
could not have appeared to regard them as 
more entirely natural. When — he had gone 
so far, once or twice — he had deigned to 
make a more than usually agreeable speech to 
her, it was received with none of that charm¬ 
ing sensitive tremor to which he was accus¬ 
tomed. Octavia neither blushed, nor dropped 
her eyes. 

It did not add to Barold’s satisfaction to 
find her as cheerful and ready to be amused 
by a mild little curate, who blushed and 
stammered, and was neither brilliant, grao^ 


PECULIAR TO NEVADA. 


191 


ful, nor distinguished. Could not Octavia 
see the wide difference between the two ? 

Regarding the matter in this light, and 
watching Octavia as she encouraged her 
visitor, and laughed at his jokes, and never 
once tripped him up by asking him a start¬ 
ling question, did not, as already has been 
said, improve Mr. Francis Barold’s temper; 
and, by the time his visit was over, he had 
lapsed into his coldest and most haughty 
manner. As soon as Miss Belinda entered, 
and engaged Mr. Poppleton for a moment, 
he rose, and crossed the little room to Octa- 
via’s side. 

“ I must bid you good-afternoon,” he said. 

Octavia did not rise. 

“ Sit down a minute, while aunt Belinda 
is talking about red-flannel nightcaps and 
lumbago,” she said. “ I wanted to ask you 
something. By the way, what is lumbago ? ” 

“Is that what you wished to ask me?” 
he inquired stiffly. 

“No. I just thought of that. Have you 
ever had it ? and what is it like ? All the old 
people in Slowbridge have it, and they tell 
you all about it when you go to see them. 


192 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


Aunt Belinda says so. What I wanted U 
ask you was different ” — 

“ Possibly Miss Bassett might be able to 
tell you,” he remarked. 

“ About the lumbago ? Well, perhaps she 
might. I’ll ask her. Do you think it bad 
taste in me to wear diamonds ? ” 

She said this with the most delightful 
seriousness, fixing her eyes upon him with 
her very prettiest look of candid appeal, as 
if it were the most natural thing in the world 
that she should apply to him for information. 
He felt himself faltering again. How white 
that bit of forehead was! How soft that 
blonde, waving fringe of hair! What a 
lovely shape her eyes were, and how large 
and clear as she raised them! 

“ Why do you ask me?” he inquired. 

“ Because I think you are an unprejudiced 
person. Lady Theobald is not. I have con¬ 
fidence in you. Tell me.” 

There was a slight pause. 

“ Really,” he said, after it, “ I can scarcely 
believe that my opinion can be of any value 
in your eyes. I am — can only tell you that 
it is hardly customary in — an — in England 


PECULIAR TO NEVADA 


19S 


for young people to wear a profusion of 
ornament.” 

“ I wonder if I wear a profusion.” 

“You don’t need any,” he condescended. 
“You are too young, and — all that sort of 
thing.” 

She glanced down at her slim, unringed 
hands for a moment, her expression quite 
thoughtful. 

“ Lucia and I almost quarrelled the other 
day,” she said — “ at least, I almost quar* 
relied. It isn’t so nice to be told of things, 
after all. I must say I don’t like it as much 
as I thought I should.” 

He kept his seat longer than he had in¬ 
tended ; and, when he rose to go, the Rev. 
Arthur Poppleton was shaking hands with 
Miss Belinda, and so it fell out that they left 
the house together. 

“ You know Miss Octavia Bassett well, I 
suppose,” remarked Barold, with condescen¬ 
sion, as they passed through the gate. “ You 
clergymen are fortunate fellows.” 

“ I wish that others knew her as well, sir,” 
said the little gentleman, kindling. “ I wish 
they knew her — her generosity and kind* 


194 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


ness of heart and ready sympathy with mi» 
fortune! ” 

“ Ah 1 ” commented Mr. Barold, twisting 
his mustache with somewhat of an incredu¬ 
lous air. This was not at all the sort of thing 
he had expected to hear. For his own part, 
it would not have occurred to him to suspect 
her of the possession of such desirable and 
orthodox qualities. 

“ There are those who — misunderstand 
her,” cried the curate, warming with his 
subject, “ who misunderstand, and — yes, 
and apply harsh terms to her innocent 
gayety and freedom of speech: if they knew 
her as I do, they would cease to do so.” 

“ I should scarcely have thought ” — began 
Barold. 

“ There are many who scarcely think it, — 
if you will pardon my interrupting you,” 
said the curate. “ I think they would scarcely 
believe it if I felt at liberty to tell them, 
which I regret to say I do not. I am 
almost breaking my word in saying what I 
cannot help saying to yourself. The poor 
under my care are better off since she came, 
and there are some who have seen her more 


PECULIAR TO NEVADA. 


196 


than once, though she did not go as a teacher 
or to reprove them for faults, and her way 
of doing what she did was new to them, and 
perhaps much less serious than they were 
accustomed to, and they liked it all the 
better.” 

“ Ah! ” commented Barold again. “ Flan¬ 
nel under-garments, and — that sort of 
thing.” 

“No,” with much spirit, “not at all, sir; 
but what, as I said, they liked much better. 
It is not often they meet a beautiful creature 
who comes among them with open hands, 
and the natural, ungrudging way of giving 
which she has. Sometimes they are at a loss 
to understand, as well as the rest. They have 
been used to what is narrower and more — 
more exacting.” 

“ They have been used to Lady Theobald,” 
observed Barold, with a faint smile. 

“ It would not become me to — to mention 
Lady Theobald in any disparaging manner,” 
replied the curate; “ but the best and most 
charitable among us do not always carry out 
our good intentions in the best way. I dare 
say Lady Theobald would consider Mi» 


m 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


Octavia Bassett too readily influenced and 
too lavish.” 

“She is as genergus with her money as 
with her diamonds perhaps,” said Barold. 
“ Possibly the quality is peculiar to Nevada. 
We part here, Mr. Poppleton, I believe. 
Good-morning.” 


LORD LAN8D0WNR. 


m 


CHAPTER XXI. 

LORD LANSDOWNE. 

One morning in the following week Mrs 
Burnham attired herself in her second-best 
black silk, and, leaving the Misses Burnham 
practising diligently, turned her steps toward 
Oldclough Hall. Arriving there, she was 
ushered into the blue drawing-room by Dob¬ 
son, in his character of footman; and in a 
few minutes Lucia appeared. 

When Mrs. Burnham saw her, she assumed 
a slight air of surprise. 

“ Why, my dear,” she said, as she shook 
hands, “ I should scarcely have known you. 

And, though this was something of an 
exaggeration, there was some excuse for the 
exclamation. Lucia was looking very charm¬ 
ing, and several changes might be noted in 
her attire and appearance. The ugly twist 
had disappeared from her delicate head; and 
in its place were soft, loose waves and light 


198 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


puffs; she had even ventured on allowing a 
few ringed locks to stray on to her forehead; 
her white morning-dress no longer wore the 
trade-mark of Miss Chickie, but had been 
remodelled by some one of more taste. 

“ What a pretty gown, my dear! ” said 
Mrs. Burnham, glancing at it curiously. 
“A Watteau plait down the back — isn’t it 
a Watteau plait? — and little ruffles down 
the front, and pale pink bows. It is quite 
like some of Miss O eta via Bassett’s dresses, 
only not so over-trimmed.” 

“ I do not think Octavia’s dresses would 
seem over-trimmed if she wore them in Lon¬ 
don or Paris,” said Lucia bravely. “It is 
only because we are so very quiet, and dress 
so little in Slowbridge, that they seem so.” 

“ And your hair! ” remarked Mrs. Burn- 
Uttuu “You drew your idea of that from 
some style of hers, I suppose. Very be¬ 
coming, indeed. Well, well! And how 
does Lady Theobald like all this, my 
dear?” 

“ I am not sure that ” — Lucia was be¬ 
ginning, when her ladyship interrupted her 
by entering. 


LOUD LANSDOWNE. 


199 


“ My dear Lady Theobald,” cried her vis 
itor, rising, “I hope you are well. I have 
just been complimenting Lucia upon her 
pretty dress, and her new style of dressing 
her hair. Miss Octavia Bassett has been 
giving her the benefit of her experience, it 
appears. We have not been doing her 
justice. Who would have believed that 
she had come from Nevada to improve us?” 

“Miss Octavia Bassett,” said my lady 
sonorously, “ has come from Nevada to teach 
our young people a great many things,— 
new fashions in duty, and demeanor, and 
respect for their elders. Let us hope they 
will be benefited.” 

“If you will excuse me, grandmamma,” 
;aid Lucia, speaking in a soft, steady voice, 
4 1 will go and write the letters you wished 
written.” 

“Go,” said my lady with majesty; and, 
having bidden Mrs. Burnham good-morning, 
Lucia went. 

If Mrs. Burnham had expected any ex¬ 
planation of her ladyship’s evident displeas¬ 
ure, she was doomed to disappointment. 
That excellent and rigorous gentlewoman 


200 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


had a stern sense of dignity, which forbade 
her condescending to the confidential weak¬ 
ness of mere ordinary mortals. Instead of 
referring to Lucia, she broached a more 
commonplace topic. 

“ I hope your rheumatism does not threat¬ 
en you again, Mrs. Burnham/’ she remarked. 

“I am very well, thank you, my dear/' 
*aid Mrs. Burnham ; “ so well, that I ana 
thinking quite seriously of taking the deal 
girls to the garden-party, when it comes 
off.” 

“ To the garden-party! ” repeated her lady¬ 
ship. “ May I ask who thinks of giving a 
garden-party in Slowbridge ? ” 

“ It is no one in Slowbridge,” replied this 
lady cheerfully. “Some one who lives a 
little out of Slowbridge, — Mr. Burmistone, 
my dear Lady Theobald, at his new place.” 

“ Mr. Burmistone I ” 

“ Yes, my dear; and a most charming affair 
it is to be, if we are to believe all we hear. 
Surely you have heard something of it from 
Mr. Barold.” 

“Mr. Barold has not been to Oldclougb 
for several days. 11 


LORD LANSDOWNE. 


2<T1 


“ Then, he will tell you when he comes, 
for I suppose he has as much to do with it 
as Mr. Burmistone.” 

“I have heard before,” announced my 
lady, “of men of Mr. Burmistone’s class 
securing the services of persons of estab¬ 
lished position in society when they wished 
to spend their money upon entertainments; 
but I should scarcely have imagined that 
Francis Bar old would have allowed himself 
to be made a party to such a transaction.” 

“ But,” put in Mrs. Burnham rather 
eagerly, “ it appears that Mr. Burmistone is 
not such an obscure person, after all. He is 
an Oxford man, and came off with honors: 
he is quite a well-born man, and gives this 
entertainment in honor of his friend and re 
lation, Lord Lansdowne.” 

“ Lord Lansdowne! ” echoed her ladyship, 
sternly. 

“Son of the Marquis of Lauderdale, whose 
wif8 was Lady Honora Erroll.” 

“ Did Mr. Burmistone give you this infor¬ 
mation ? ” asked Lady Theobald with ironic 
calmness. 

Mrs. Burnham colored never so faintly. 


102 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“I — that is to say — there is a sort ol 
acquaintance between one of my maids and 
the butler at the Burmistone place; and, 
when the girl was doing Lydia’s hair, she 
told her the story. Lord Lansdowne and 
his father are quite fond of Mr. Burmistone, 
It is said.” 

“ It seems rather singular to my mind that 
we should not have known of this before.” 

“But how should we learn? We none of 
us know Lord Lansdowne, or even the mar¬ 
quis. I think he is only a second or third 
cousin. We are a little — just a little set in 
Slov bridge, you know, my dear: at least, I 
hay^ thought so sometimes lately.” 

u I must confess,” remarked my lady, 
“that I have not regarded the matter in 
that light.” 

“ That is because you have a better right 
o — to be a little set than the rest of us,” 
vas the amiable response. 

Lady Theobald did not disclaim the privi¬ 
lege. She felt the sentiment an extremely 
correct one. But she was not very warm in 
her manner during the remainder of the call, 
and, incongruous as such a statement may 


LOUD LANSDOWNE. 


*203 


appear, it must be confessed that she felt 
that Miss Octavia Bassett must have some¬ 
thing to do with these defections on a! 
sides, and that garden-parties, and all such 
swervings from established Slowbridge cus¬ 
tom, were the natural result of Nevada fri¬ 
volity and freedom of manners. It may be 
that she felt remotely that even Lord Lans- 
downe and the Marquis of Lauderdale were 
to be referred to the same reprehensible 
cause, and that, but for Octavia Bassett, Mr. 
Burmistone would not have been educated 
at Oxford and have come off with honors, 
and have turned out to be related to respect 
able people, but would have remained in 
appropriate obscurity. 

“ I suppose,” she said afterward to Lucia, 
“ that your friend Miss Octavia Bassett is in 
Mr. Burmistone ? s confidence, if no one else 
has been permitted to have that honor. I 
have no doubt she has known of this ap¬ 
proaching entertainment for some weeks.” 

“I do not know, grandmamma,” replied 
Lucia, putting her letters together, £jad gain¬ 
ing color as she bent over them. She was 
wondering, with inward trepidation, what ha? 


m 


A FAIR BARBARIAN , 


ladyship ^ould say if she knew the whols 
truth, — if she knew that it was her grand 
daughter, and not Octavia Bassett, who 
enjoyed Mr. Burmistone’s confidence. 

“ Ah! ” she thought, “ how could I ever dare 
to tell her ? ” 

The same day Francis Barold sauntered 
up to pay them a visit; and then, as Mrs. 
Burnham had prophesied, Lady Theobald 
heard all she wished to hear, and, indeed, a 
great deal more. 

“What is this I am told of Mr. Burmi- 
stone, Francis ? ” she inquired. “ That he 
intends to give a garden-party, and that Lord 
Lansdowne is to be one of the guests, and 
that he has caused it to be circulated that 
they are cousins.” 

“That Lansdowne has caused it to be 
circulated — or Burmistone ? ” 

“It is scarcely likely that Lord Lans¬ 
downe ” — 

“Beg pardon,” he interrupted, fixing his 
single glass dexterously in his right eye, and 
gazing at her ladyship through it. “Can’t 
see why Lansdowne should object. Fact is, 
he is a great deal fonder of Burmistone thau 


LORD LANSDOWNE. 


206 


relations usually are of each other. Now, I 
often find that kind of thing a bore; but 
Lansdowne doesn’t seem to. They were at 
school together, it seems, and at Oxford too; 
nd Burmistone is supposed to have behaved 
pretty well towards Lansdowne at one time, 
when he was rather a wild fellow — so the 
father and mother say. As to Burmistone 
‘causing it to be circulated,’ that sort of 
thing is rather absurd. The man isn’t a cad, 
you know.” 

“ Pray don’t say ‘ you know,’ Francis,” said 
her ladyship. “ I know very little but what 
I have chanced to see, and I must confess I 
have not been prepossessed in Mr. Burmi 
stone’s favor. Why did he not choose to 
inform us ” — 

“That he was Lord Lansdowne’s second 
cousin, and knew the Marquis of Lauderdale, 
grandmamma ? ” broke in Lucia, with very 
pretty spirit. “Would that have prepos¬ 
sessed you in his favor? Would you have 
forgiven him for building the mills, on Lord 
Lansdowne’s account? I — I wish I was 
related to a marquis,” which was very bold 
Indeed. 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“May I ask,” said her ladyship, in hex 
most monumental manner, “when you be 
came Mr. Burmistone’s champion ? ” 


‘TOU HAVE MADE IT LIVELIER .” 20*5 


CHAPTER XXII. 

“ YOU HAVE MADE IT LIVELIER.” 

When she had become Mr. Burmistone’s 
champion, indeed! She could scarcely have 
told when, unless, perhaps, she had fixed the 
date at the first time she had heard his name 
introduced at a high tea, with every politely 
opprobrious epithet affixed. She had de¬ 
fended him in her own mind then, and felt 
sure that he deserved very little that was 
said against him, and very likely nothing at 
all. And, the first time she had seen and 
spoken to him, she had been convinced that 
she had not made a mistake, and that he 
had been treated with cruel injustice. How 
kind he was, how manly, how clever, and 
how well he bore himself under the popular 
adverse criticism! She only wondered that 
anybody could be so blind and stupid and 
wilful as to assail him. 

And if this had been the case in those 


208 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


early days, imagine what she felt now, when 
— ah, well!—when her friendship had had 
time and opportunity to become a much 
deeper sentiment. Must it be confessed that 
she had seen Mr. Burmistone even oftener 
than Octavia and Miss Belinda knew of? 
Of course it had all been quite accidental; 
but it had happened that now and then, when 
she had been taking a quiet walk in the lanes 
about Oldclough, she had encountered a gen¬ 
tleman, who had dismounted, and led his 
horse by the bridle, as he sauntered by her 
side. She had always been very timid at 
such times, and had felt rather like a crimi¬ 
nal ; but Mr. Burmistone had not been 
timid at all, and would, indeed, as soon 
have met Lady Theobald as not, for which 
courage his companion admired him more 
than ever. It was not very long before to 
be with this hero re-assured her, and made 
her feel stronger and more self-reliant. She 
was never afraid to open her soft little heart 
to him, and show him innocently all its 
goodness, and ignorance of worldliness. She 
warmed and brightened under his kindly 
fetfluence, and was often surprised in secret 


YOU HAVE MADE IT LIVELIER” 209 


at her own simple readiness of wit and 
speech. 

“ It is odd that I am such a different girl 
when — when I am with you,” she said to 
him one day. “ I even make little jokes. I 
never should think of making even the 
tiniest joke before grandmamma. Somehow, 
she never seems quite to understand jokes. 
She never laughs at them. You always 
laugh, and I am sure it is very kind of you to 
encourage me so ; but you must not encour¬ 
age me too much, or I might forget, and 
make a little joke at dinner, and I think, if 
I did, she would choke over her soup.” 

Perhaps, when she dressed her hair, and 
adorned herself with pale pink bows and 
like appurtenances, this artful young person 
had privately in mind other beholders than 
Mrs. Burnham, and other commendation 
than that to be bestowed by that most 
excellent matron. 

“Do you mind my telling you that you 
have put on an enchanted garment?” said 
Mr. Burmistone, the first time they met 
when she wore one of the old-new gowns, 
“ I thought I knew before how ” — 


no 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“ I don’t mind it at all,” said Lucia, 
blushing brilliantly. “I rather like it. It 
rewards me for my industry. My hair is 
dressed in a new way. I hope you like that 
too. Grandmamma does not.” 

It had been Lady Theobald’s habit to 
treat Lucia severely from a sense of duty. 
Her manner toward her had always rather 
the tone of implying that she was naturally 
at fault, and yet her ladyship could not have 
told wherein she wished the girl changed. 
In the good old school in which my lady had 
been trained, it was customary to regard 
young people as weak, foolish, and, if left to 
their own desires, frequently sinful. Lucia 
had not been left to her own desires. She 
had been taught to view herself as rather a 
bad case, and to feel that she was far from 
being what her relatives had a right to 
expect. To be thrown with a person who 
did not find her silly or dull or common¬ 
place, was a new experience. 

“If I had been clever,” Lucia said once 
to Mr. Burmistone, — “if I had been clever, 
perhaps grandmamma would have been more 
satisfied with me. I have often wished I 
had been clever.” 


YOU HAVE MADE IT LIVELIER ” 211 


“If you had been a boy,” replied Mr. 
Burmistone rather grimly, “and had squan¬ 
dered her money, and run into debt, and 
bullied her, you would have been her idol, 
and she would have pinched and starved 
herself to supply your highness’s extrava¬ 
gance.” 

When the garden-party rumor began to 
take definite form, and there was no doubt 
as to Mr. Burmistone’s intentions, a discus¬ 
sion arose at once, and went on in every 
genteel parlor. Would Lady Theobald allow 
Lucia to go ? and, if she did not allow her, 
would not such a course appear very pointed 
indeed? It was universally decided that it 
would appear pointed, but that Lady Theo¬ 
bald would not mind that in the least, and 
perhaps would rather enjoy it than other¬ 
wise ; and it was thought Lucia would not go. 
And it is very likely that Lucia would have 
remained at home, if it had not been for the 
influence of Mr. Francis Barold. 

Making a call at Oldclough, he found hia 
august relative in a very majestic mood, 
and she applied to him again for informa¬ 
tion. 


212 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“ Perhaps,” she said, “ you may be able 
co tell me whether it is true that Belinda 
Bassett — Belinda Bassett ,” with emphasis, 
“has been invited by Mr. Burmistone to 
assist him to receive his guests.” 

“ Yes, it is true,” was the reply: “I think 
I advised it myself. Burmistone is fond of 
her. They are great friends. Man needs 
a woman at such times.” 

“ And he chose Belinda Bassett ? ” 

“ In the first place, he is on friendly terms 
with her, as I said before,” replied Barold; 
“ in the second, she’s just what he wants — 
well-bred, kind-hearted, not likely to make 
rows, et ccetera .” There was a slight pause 
before he finished, adding quietly, “He’s 
not the man to submit to being refused — 
Burmistone.” 

Lady Theobald did not reply, or raise her 
eyes from her work: she knew he was look¬ 
ing at her with calm fixedness, through the 
glass he held in its place so cleverly; and 
she detested this more than any thing else, 
perhaps because she was invariably quelled 
by it, and found she had nothing to say. 

He did not address her again immediately, 


YOU HAVE MADE IT LIVELIER” 213 


but turned tc Lucia, dropping the eyeglass, 
and resuming his normal condition. 

“ You will go, of course ? ” he said. 

Lucia glanced across at my lady. 

“I — do not know. Grandmamma” — 

“ Oh I ” interposed Barold, “ you must go. 
There is no reason for your refusing the 
invitation, unless you wish to imply some¬ 
thing unpleasant — which is, of course, out 
of the question.” 

“ But there may be reasons ” — began her 
ladyship. 

“ Burmistone is my friend,” put in Barold, 
in his coolest tone; “ and I am your rela¬ 
tive, which would make my position in his 
house a delicate one, if he has offended 
you.” 

When Lucia saw Octavia again, she was 
able to tell her that they had received invi¬ 
tations to the fete, and that Lady Theobald 
had accepted them. 

“She has not spoken a word to me about 
it, but she has accepted them,” said Lucia. 
“I don’t quite understand her lately, Octa- 
via. She must be very fond of Francis 
Barold. He never gives way to her in the 


214 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


least, and she always seems to submit to 
him. I know she would not have let me 
go, if he had not insisted on it, in that 
taking-it-for-granted way of his.” 

Naturally Mr. Burmistone’s fSte caused 
great excitement. Miss Chickie was never 
so busy in her life, and there were rumors 
that her feelings had been outraged by the 
discovery that Mrs. Burnham had sent to 
Harriford for costumes for her daugh¬ 
ters. 

“ Slowbridge is changing, mem,” said 
Miss Chickie, with brilliant sarcasm. “ Our 
ladies is led in their fashions by a Nevada 
young person. We’re improving most rapid 
— more rapid than I’d ever have dared to 
hope. Do you prefer a frill, or a flounce, 
mem? ” 

Octavia was in great good spirits at the 
prospect of the gayeties in question. She 
had been in remarkably good spirits for 
some weeks. She had received letters from 
Nevada, containing good news she said. 
Shares had gone up again; and he* father 
had almost settled his affairs, and it would 
not be long before he would come to Eng 


YOU HAVE MADE IT LIVELIER” 215 


land. She looked so exhilarated oyer the 
matter, that Lucia felt a little aggrieved. 

“Will you be so glad to leave us, Octa- 
via?” she asked. “We shall not be so glad 
to let you go. We have grown very fond 
of you.” 

“I shall be sorry to leave you, and aunt 
Belinda is going with us. You don’t expect 
me to be very fond of Slowbridge, do you, 
and to be sorry I can’t take Mrs. Burnham 
— and the rest ? ” 

Barold was present when she made this 
speech, and it rather rankled. 

“ Am I one of ‘ the rest ’ ? ” he inquired, 
the first time he found himself alone with 
her. He was sufficiently piqued to forget 
his usual hauteur and discretion. 

“Would you like to be?” she said. 

“Oh I Very much — very much — natu¬ 
rally,” he replied severely. 

They were standing near a rose-bush in 
the garden; and she plucked a rose, and re¬ 
garded it with deep interest. 

“Well,” she said, next, “I must say I 
think I shouldn t have had such a good 
time if you hadn’t been here. You have 
made it livelier.” 


216 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


“ Tha-anks,” he remarked. “ You are most 
kind.” 

“ Oh! ” she answered, “ it’s true. If it 
wasn’t, I shouldn’t say it. You and Mr. 
Burmistone and Mr. Poppleton have cer¬ 
tainly made it livelier.” 

He went home in such a bad humor that 
his host, who was rather happier than usual, 
commented upon his grave aspect at dinner. 

“ You look as if you had heard ill news, 
old fellow,” he said. “ What’s up ? ” 

“ Oh, nothing! ” he was answered sar¬ 
donically ; “ nothing whatever — unless that 
I have been rather snubbed by a young lady 
from Nevada.” 

“ Ah! ” with great seriousness: “ that’s 
rather cool, isn’t it?” 

“ It’s her little way,” said Barold. “ It 
seems to be one of the customs of Nevada.” 

In fact, he was very savage indeed. He 
felt that he had condescended a good deal 
lately. He seldom bestowed his time on 
women ; and when he did so, at rare intervals, 
he chose those who would do the most honor 
to his taste at the least cost of trouble. And 
he was obliged to confess to himself that he 


YOU HAVE MADE IT LIVELIER” 217 


had broken his rule in this case. Upon ana 
iyzing his motives and necessities, he found, 
that, after all, he must have extended his 
visit simply because he chose to see more of 
this young woman from Nevada, and that 
really, upon the whole, he had borne a good 
deal from her. Sometimes he had been 
much pleased with her, and very well enter¬ 
tained; but often enough — in fact, rather 
too often — she had made him exceedingly 
uncomfortable. Her manners were not what 
he was accustomed to: she did not consider 
that all men were not to be regarded from 
the same point of view. Perhaps he did not 
put into definite words the noble and pat¬ 
riotic sentiment that an Englishman was not 
to be regarded from the same point of view 
as an American, and that, though all this 
sort of thing might do with fellows in New 
York, it was scarcely what an Englishman 
would stand. Perhaps, as I say, he had not 
put this sentiment into words; but it is quite 
certain that it had been uppermost in his 
mind upon more occasions than one. As he 
thought their acquaintance over, this even¬ 
ing, he was rather severe upon Octavia. He 


218 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


even was roused so far as to condescend to 
talk her over with Burmistone. 

“If she had been well brought up,” he 
said, “she would have been a different 
creature.” 

“Very different, I have no doubt,” said 
Burmistone thoughtfully. “When you say 
well brought up, by the way, do you mean 
brought up like your cousin, Miss Gaston ? ” 

“There is a medium,” said Barold loftily. 
“ I regret to say Lady Theobald has not hit 
upon it.” 

“Well, as you say,” commented Mr. Bur¬ 
mistone, “ I suppose there is a medium.” 

“ A charming wife she would make, for a 
man with a position to maintain,” remarked 
Barold, with a short and somewhat savage 
laugh. 

“Octavia Bassett?” queried Burmistone. 
“ That’s true. But I am afraid she wouldn’t 
enjoy it — if you are supposing the man to 
be an Englishman, brought up in the regula¬ 
tion groove.” 

“ Ah! ” exclaimed Barold impatiently: 
“ I was not looking at it from her point of 
view, but from his.” 


‘‘YOU HAVE MADE IT LIVELIER .” 218 


Mr. Burmistone slipped his hands in his 
pockets, and jingled his keys slightly, as he 
did once before in an earlier part of this 
narrative. 

“ Ah! from his,” he repeated. “ Not fronoq 
hers. His point of view would differ from' 
hers — naturally.” 

Barold flushed a little, and took his cigar 
from his mouth to knock off the ashes. 

“A man is not necessarily a snob,” he 
said, “ because he is cool enough not to lose 
his head where a woman is concerned. You 
can’t marry a woman who will make mis¬ 
takes, and attract universal attention by her 
conduct.” 

“Has it struck you that O eta via Bassett 
would ? ” inquired Burmistone. 

“ She would do as she chose,” said Barold 
petulantly. “She would do things which 
were unusual; but I was not referring to 
her in particular. Why should I ? ” 

“ Ah I ” said Burmistone. “ I only thought 
of her because it did not strike me that one 
would ever feel she had exactly blundered. 
She is not easily embarrassed. There is a 
iang-froid about her which carries things off ” 


m 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“ Ah I ” deigned Barold: “ she has san& 
f raid enough and to spare.” 

He was silent for some time afterward, and 
sat smoking later than usual. When he was 
about to leave the room for the night, he 
made an announcement for which his host 
was not altogether prepared. 

“ When the fete is over, my dear fellow," 
he said, “ I must go back to London, and I 
shall be deucedly sorry to do it.” 

“ Look here ! ” said Burmistone, “ that’s a 
new idea, isn’t it ? ” 

“ No, an old one; but I have been putting 
the thing off from day to day. By Jove ! I 
did not think it likely that I should put it 
off, the day I landed here.” 

And he laughed rather uneasily 


“MAY I GO f» 


221 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

44 MAY I GO ? ” 

The very day after this, O eta via opened 
the fourth trunk. She had had it brought 
down from the garret, when there came a 
summons on the door, and Lucia Gaston ap¬ 
peared. 

Lucia was very pale; and her large, soft 
eyes wore a decidedly frightened look. She 
seemed to have walked fast, and was out of 
breath. Evidently something had happened. 

44 Octavia,” she said, 44 Mr. Dugald Binnie 
is at Oldclough.” 

44 Who is he ? ” 

44 He is my grand-uncle/’ explained Lucia 
tremulously. 44 He has a great deal of money. 
Grandmamma ” — She stopped short, and 
colored, and drew her slight figure up. 44 1 
do not quite understand grandmamma, Oc¬ 
tavia,” she said. 44 Last night she came to 
my room to talk to me ; and this morning 


222 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


she came again, and — oh! ” she broke out 
indignantly, M how oould she speak to me in 
such a manner ? ” 

“ What did she say ? ” inquired Octa- 
via. 

“ She said a great many things,” with 
great spirit. K It took her a long time to 
say them, and I do not wonder at it. It 
would have taken me a hundred years, if I 
had been in her place. I — I was wrong to 
say I did not understand her: I did — be¬ 
fore she had finished.” 

“ What did you understand ? ” 

“ She was afraid to tell me in plain words. 
— I never saw her afraid before, but she was 
afraid. She has been arranging my future 
for me, and it does not occur to her that I 
dare object. That is because she knows 
I am a coward, and despises me for it — and 
it is what I deserve. If I make the marriage 
she chooses, she thinks Mr. Binnie will leave 
me his money. I am to run after a man who 
does not care for me, and make myself at¬ 
tractive* in the hope that he will condescend 
to marry me because Mr. Binnie may leave 
me his money. Do you wonder that it took 


MAT I 00 t 


223 

even Lady Theobald a long time to say 
that?” 

“Well,” remarked Octavia, “youwon't de 
it, I suppose. I wouldn’t worry. She wants 
you to marry Mr. Barold, I suppose.” 

Lucia started. 

“ How did you guess ? ” she exclaimed. 

“ Oh! I always knew it. I didn’t guess.” 
And she smiled ever so faintly. “That is 
one of the reasons why she loathes me so,” 
she added. 

Lucia thought deeply for a moment: she 
recognized, all at once, several things she 
had been mystified by before. 

“ Oh, it is! It is! ” she said. “ And she 
has thought oi it all the time, when I never 
suspected her.” 

Octavia smiled a little again. Lucia sat 
thinking, her hands clasped tightly. 

“I am glad I came here,” she said, at 
length. “ I am angry now, and I see things 
more clearly. If she had only thought of 
it because Mr. Binnie came, I could have 
forgiven her more easily; but she has been 
making coarse plans all the time, and treat 
Ing me with contempt. Octavia,” she added, 


2S4 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


turning upon her, with flushing cheeks and 
sparkling eyes, “I think that, for the first 
time in my life, I am in a passion, — a real 
passion. I think I shall never be afraid of 
her any more.” Her delicate nostrils were 
dilated, she held her head up, her breath 
came fast. There was a hint of exultation 
in her tone. “Yes,” she said, “I am in a 
passion. And I am not afraid of her at all. 
I will go home and tell her what I think.” 

And it is quite probable that she would 
have done so, but for a trifling incident 
which occurred before she reached her lady¬ 
ship. 

She walked very fast, after she left the 
house. She wanted to reach Oldclough be¬ 
fore one whit of her anger cooled down; 
though, somehow, she felt quite sure, that, 
even when her anger died out, her courage 
would not take flight with it. Mr. Dugald 
Binnie had not proved to be a very fascinat¬ 
ing person. He was an acrid, dictatorial 
old man: ba contradicted Lady Theobald 
flatly every five minutes, and bullied his 
man-servant. But it was not against him 
that Lucia’s indignation was aroused. She 


“MAT l GO t” 


225 


felt that Lady Theobald was quite capable 
of suggesting to him that Francis Barold 
would be a good match for her; and, if she 
had done so, it was scarcely his fault if he 
had accepted the idea. She understood now 
why she had been allowed to visit Octavia, 
and why divers other things had happened. 
She had been sent to walk with Francis 
Barold; he had been almost reproached when 
he had not called; perhaps her ladyship had 
been good enough to suggest to him that it 
was his duty to further her plans. She was 
as capable of that as of any thing else which 
would assist her to gain her point. The 
girl’s cheeks grew hotter and hotter, her eyes 
brighter, at every step, because every step 
brought some new thought: her hands trem¬ 
bled, and her heart beat. 

“ I shall never be afraid of her again,” she 
said, as she turned the corner into the road. 
“ Never! never I ” 

And at that very moment a gentleman 
stepped out of the wood at her right, and 
stopped before her. 

She started back, with a cry. 

“ Mr. Burmistone! ” she said; “ Mr. Bur 
mistone I ” 


226 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


She wondered if he had heard her last 
words; she fancied he had. He took hold 
of her shaking little hand, and looked down 
at her excited face. 

“I am glad I waited for you,” he said, in 
the quietest possible tone. “Something is 
the matter.” 

She knew there would be no use in trying* 
to conceal the truth, and she w r as not in the 
mood to make the effort. She scarcely knew 
herself. 

She gave quite a fierce little laugh. 

“I am angry!” she said. “You have 
never seen me angry before. I am on my 
way to my—to Lady Theobald.” 

He held her hand as calmly as before. 
He understood a great deal more than she 
could have imagined. 

“What are you going to say to her?” lie 
asked. She laughed again. 

“I am going to ask her what she means. 
I am going to tell her she has made a mis¬ 
take. I am going to prove to her that I ara 
not such a coward, after all. I am going to 
tell her that I dare disobey her ,—that is 
what I am going to say to her,” she con¬ 
cluded decisively. 


MAY I GO f 


227 


He held her hand rather closer. 

“ Let us take a stroll in the copse, and talk 
It over,” he said. “ It is deliciously cool 
there.” 

“ I don’t want to be cool,” she said. But 
he drew her gently with him; and a few steps 
took them into the shade of the young oaks 
and pines, and there he paused. 

“ She has made you very angry ? ” he said. 

And then, almost before she knew what 
she was doing, she was pouring forth the 
whole of her story, even more of it than 
she had told Octavia. She had not at all in¬ 
tended to do it; but she did it, nevertheless. 

“I am to marry Mr. Francis Barold, if 
he will take me,” she said, with a bitter little 
smile, — “ Mr. Francis Barold, who is so 
much in love with me, as you know. His 
mother approves of the match, and sent him 
here to make love to me, which he has 
done, as ycu have seen. I have no money 
of my own; but, if I make a marriage which 
pleases him, Dugald Binnie will probably 
leave me his — which it is thought will be 
an inducement to my cousin, who needs one. 
If I marry him, or rather he marries me, 


228 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


Lady Theobald thinks Mr. Binnie will b« 
pleased. It does not even matter whether 
Francis is pleased or not, and of course I 
am out of the question ; but it is hoped that 
it will please Mr. Binnie. The two ladies 
have talked it over, and decided the matter. 
I dare say they have offered me to Francis, 
who has very likely refused me, though per¬ 
haps he may be persuaded to relent in time, 
— if I am very humble, and he is shown the 
advantage of having Mr. Binnie’s money 
added to his own, — but I have no doubt I 
shall have to be very humble indeed. That 
is what I learned from Lady Theobald last 
night, and it is what I am going to talk to 
her about. Is it enough to make one angry, 
do you think ? is it enough ? ” 

He did not tell her whether he thought it 
enough, or not. He looked at her with steady 
eyes. 

“ Lucia,” he said, “ I wish you would let 
me go and talk with Lady Theobald.” 

“You?” she said with a little start. 

“ Yes,” he answered. “ Let me go to her. 
Let me tell her, that, instead of marrying 
Francis Barold, you will marry me . If you 


MAT I QOT' 


229 


will say yes to that, I think I can promise 
that you need never be afraid of her any 
more.” 

The fierce color died out of her cheeks, 
and the tears rushed to her eyes. She raised 
her face with a pathetic look. 

“ Oh ! ” she whispered, “ you must be very 
sorry for me. I think you have been sorry 
for me from the first.” 

“I am desperately in love with you,” he 
answered, in his quietest way. “ I have 
been desperately in love with you from the 
first. May I go ? ” 

She looked at him for a moment, incred¬ 
ulously. Then she faltered, — 

“Yes.” 

She still looked up at him; and then, in 
spite of her happiness, or perhaps because of 
it, she suddenly began to cry softly, and for¬ 
got she had been angry at all, as he took her 
into his strong, kind arms. 


mo 


A FAIR BARBARIAN 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE GARDEN-PARTY. 

The morning of the garden-party arose 
bright and clear, and Slowbridge awakened 
in a great state of excitement. Miss Chickie, 
haying worked until midnight that all her 
orders might be completed, was so overpow¬ 
ered by her labors as to have to take her tea 
and toast in bed. 

At Oldclough varied sentiments prevailed. 
Lady Theobald’s manner was chiefly distin¬ 
guished by an implacable rigidity. She had 
chosen, as an appropriate festal costume, a 
funereal-black moire antique , enlivened by 
massive fringes and ornaments of jet; her 
jewelry being chains and manacles of the lat¬ 
ter, which rattled as she moved, with a sound 
somewhat suggestive of bones. 

Mr. Dugald Binnie, who had received an 
invitation, had as yet amiably forborne to say 
whether he would accept it, or not. He had 


THE GARDEN-PARTY, 


231 


been out when Mr. Burmistone called, and 
had not seen him. 

When Lady Theobald descended to break¬ 
fast, she found him growling over his news- 
paper • and he glanced up at her with a polite 
scowl. 

“ Going to a funeral ? ” he demanded. 

“ I accompany my granddaughter to this 
— this entertainment,” her ladyship re¬ 
sponded. “ It is scarcely a joyous occasion, 
to my mind.” 

“No need to dress yourself like that, if 
it isn’t,” ejaculated Mr. Binnie. “Why 
don’t you stay at home, if you don’t want 
to go? Man’s all right, isn’t he? Once 
knew a man by the name of Burmistone, 
myself. One of the few decent fellows I’ve 
met. If I were sure this was the same man, 
I’d go myself. When I find a fellow who’s 
neither knave nor fool, I stick to him. 
Believe I’ll send to find out. Where’s 
Lucia ? ” 

What his opinion of Lucia was, it was 
difficult to discover. He had an agreeable 
habit of staring at her over the top of hia 
paper, and over his dinner. The only time 


232 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


he had made any comment upon her, wat 
the first time he saw her in the dress she had 
copied from Octavia’s. 

“ Nice gown that,” he blurted out: “ didn't 
get it here, I’ll wager.” 

“ It’s an old dress I remodelled,” answered 
Lucia somewhat alarmed. “I made it my¬ 
self.” 

“ Doesn’t look like it,” he said gruffly. 

Lucia had touched up another dress, and 
was very happy in the prospect of wearing it 
at the garden-party. 

“Don’t call on grandmamma until after 
Wednesday,” she had said to Mr. Burmi- 
stone: “perhaps she wouldn’t let me go. 
She will be very angry, I am sure.” 

“ And you are not afraid ? ” 

“No,” she answered: “I am not afraid at 
all. I shall not be afraid again.” 

In fact, she had perfectly confounded her 
ladyship by her demeanor. She bore her 
fiercest glance without quailing in the least, 
or making any effort to evade it: under her 
most scathing comments she was composed 
and unmoved. On the first occasion of my 
lady’s referring to her plans for her future 


THE GARDEN-PARTY. 


283 


she received a blow which fairly stunned 
her. The girl rose from her chair, and 
looked her straight in the face unflinchingly, 
and with a suggestion of hauteur not easy to 
confront. 

“ I beg you will not speak to me of that 
again,” she said: “ I will not listen.” And 
turning about, she walked out of the room. 

“ This,” her ladyship had said in sepul¬ 
chral tones, when she recovered her breath, 
“this is one of the results of Miss Octavia 
Bassett.” And nothing more had been said 
on the subject since. 

No one in Slowbridge was in more brilliant 
spirits than Octavia herself on the morning 
of the fSte. Before breakfast Miss Belinda 
was startled by the arrival of another tele¬ 
gram, which ran as follows: — 

“Arrived to-day, per ‘Russia.* Be with you to¬ 
morrow evening. Friend with me. 

“Martin Bassett.” 

On reading this communication, Miss Be¬ 
linda burst into floods of delighted tears. 

“ Dear, dear Martin,” she wept; “ to think 
that we should meet again! Why didn’t be 


2M A FAIR BARBARIAN. 

let us know he was on the way ? I should 
have been so anxious that I should not have 
slept at all.” 

“Well,” remarked Octavia, “I suppose 
that would have been an advantage.” 

Suddenly she approached Miss Belinda, 
kissed her, and disappeared out of the room 
as if by magic, not returning for a quarter 
of an hour, looking rather soft and moist 
and brilliant about the eyes when she did 
return. 

Octavia was a marked figure upon the 
grounds at that garden-party. 

“ Another dress, my dear,” remarked Mrs. 
Burnham. “ And what a charming color she 
has, I declare! She is usually paler. Per¬ 
haps we owe this to Lord Lansdowne.” 

“Her dress is becoming, at all events,” 
privately remarked Miss Lydia Burnham, 
whose tastes had not been consulted about 
her own. 

“It is she who is becoming,” said her 
sister: “ it is not the dress so much, though 
her clothes always have a look , some way. 
She’s prettier than ever to-day, and is enjoy* 
ing herself.” 


THE GARDEN—PARTY. 


235 


She was enjoying herself. Mr. Francis 
Barold observed it rather gloomily as he 
stood apart. She was enjoying herself so 
much, that she did not seem to notice that 
he had avoided her, instead of going up to 
claim her attention. Half a dozen men were 
standing about her, and making themselves 
agreeable; and she was apparently quite 
equal to the emergencies of the occasion. 
The young men from Broadoaks had at once 
attached themselves to her train. 

“I say, Barold,” they had said to him, 
“why didn’t you tell us about this? Jolly 
good fellow you are, to come mooning here 
for a couple of months, and keep it all to 
yourself.” 

And then had come Lord Lansdowne, 
who, in crossing the lawn to shake hands 
with his host, had been observed to keep his 
eye fixed upon one particular point. 

“ Burmistone,” he said, after having spo¬ 
ken his first words, “ who is that tall girl in 
white ? ” 

And in ten minutes Lady Theobald, Mrs. 
Burnham, Mr. Barold, and divers others too 
oumerous to mention, saw him standing at 


236 


A FAIR BARBARIAN 


Octavia’s side, evidently with no intention 
of leaving it. 

Not long after this Fiancis Barold found 
his way to Miss Belinda, who was very busy 
and rather nervous. 

“Your niece is evidently enjoying her¬ 
self,” he remarked. 

“ Octavia is most happy today,” answered 
Miss Belinda. “ Her father will reach Slow- 
bridge this evening. She has been looking 
forward to his coming with great anxiety.” 

“ Ah! ” commented Barold. 

“Very few people understand Octavia,” 
said Miss Belinda. “I’m not sure that I 
follow all her moods myself. She is more 
affectionate than people fancy. She — she 
has very pretty ways.. I am very fond of 
her. She is not as frivolous as she appears 
to those who don’t know her well.” 

Barold stood gnawing his mustache, and 
made no reply. He was not very comforta¬ 
ble. He felt himself ill-used by Fate, and 
rather wished he had returned to London 
from Broadoaks, instead of loitering in Slow- 
bridge. He had amused himself at first, but 
In time he had been surprised to find hii 


TEE GARDEE-rARTT . 


231 


tmusement lose something of its zest. He 
glowered across the lawn at the group under 
a certain beech-tree; and, as he did so, Octavia 
turned her face a little and saw him. She 
stood waving her fan slowly, and smiling at 
him in a calm way, which reminded him very 
much of the time he had first caught sight 
of her at Lady Theobald’s high tea. 

He condescended to saunter over the grass 
to where she stood. Once there, he pro¬ 
ceeded to make himself as disagreeable as 
possible, in a silent and lofty way. He felt 
it only due to himself that he should. He 
did not approve at all of the manner in 
which Lansdowne kept by her. 

“ It’s deucedly bad form on his part,” he 
said mentally. “ What does he mean by 
it?” 

Octavia, on the contrary, did not ask what 
ne meant by it. She chose to seem rather 
well entertained, and did not notice that she 
was being frowned down. There was no 
reason why she should not find Lord Lans¬ 
downe entertaining: he was an agreeable 
young fellow, with an inexhaustible fund of 
good spirits, and no nonsense about him. 


288 


A FAIR BARBARIAN 


He was fond of all pleasant novelty, and 
Oetavia was a pleasant novelty. He had 
been thinking of paying a visit to America, 
and he asked innumerable questions con¬ 
cerning that country, all of which Oetavia 
answered. 

“I know half a dozen fellows who have 
been there,” he said. “ And they all en¬ 
joyed it tremendously.” 

“If you go to Nevada, you must visit the 
mines at Bloody Gulch,” she said. 

“ Where ? ” he ejaculated. “ I say, what a 
name! Don’t deride my youth and igno¬ 
rance, Miss Bassett.” 

“You can call it L’Argentville, if you 
would rather,” she replied. 

“ I would rather try the other, thank you,” 
he laughed. “ It has a more hilarious sound. 
Will they despise me at Bloody Gulch, Miss 
Bassett ? I never killed a man in my life.” 

Barold turned, and walked away, angry, 
and more melancholy than he could have 
believed. 

“It is time I went back to London,” he 
chose to put it. “ The place begins to b* 
deucedly dull.” 


THE GARDEN-PARTY. 


m 


“ Mr. Francis Barold seems rather out of 
spirits,’’ said Mrs. Burnham to Lady Theo¬ 
bald. “ Lord Lansdowne interferes with his 
pleasure.” 

“I had not observed it,” answered her 
ladyship. “And it is scarcely likely that 
Mr. Francis Barold would permit his pleas¬ 
ure to be interfered with, even by the son 
of the Marquis of Lauderdale.” 

But she glared at Barold as he passed, 
and beckoned to him. 

“ Where is Lucia ? ” she demanded. 

“ I saw her with Burmistone half an hour 
ago, ” he answered coldly. “ Have you any 
message for my mother? I shall return to 
London to-morrow, leaving here early.” 

She turned quite pale. She had not 
counted upon this at all, and it was ex¬ 
tremely inopportune. 

“ What has happened ? ” she asked rigidly. 

He looked slightly surprised. 

“ Nothing whatever,” he replied. “ I have 
remained here longer than I intended.” 

She began to move the manacles on her 
right wrist. He made not the smallest profes¬ 
sion of reluctance to go. She said, at last, — 


240 


A FAIR BARBARIAJS 


“ If you will find Lucia, you wall oblige 
me.” 

She was almost uncivil to Miss Pilcher, 
who chanced to join her after he was gone. 
She had not the slightest intention of allow- 
ing her plans to be frustrated, and was only 
roused to fresh obstinacy by encountering 
indifference on one side and rebellion on the 
other. She had not brought Lucia up under 
her own eye for nothing. She had been dis¬ 
turbed of late, but by no means considered 
herself baffled. With the assistance of Mr. 
Dugald Binnie, she could certainly subdue 
Lucia, though Mr. Dugald Binnie had been 
of no great help so far. She would do her 
duty unflinchingly. In fact, she chose to 
persuade herself, that, if Lucia was brought 
to a proper frame of mind, there could be no 
real trouble with Francis Barold 


SOMEBODY ELSE. 


m 


CHAPTER XXV. 

“SOMEBODY ELSE.” 

But Barold did not make any very ardent 
search for Lucia. He stopped to watch a 
game of lawn-tennis, in which Octavia and 
Lord Lansdowne had joined, and finally for- 
got Lady Theobald’s errand altogether. 

For some time Octavia did not see him. 
She was playing with great spirit, and 
Lord Lansdowne was following her delight¬ 
edly. 

Finally a chance of the game bringing 
her to him, she turned suddenly, and found 
Barold’s eyes fixed upon her. 

“How long have you been there?” she 
asked. 

“ Some time,” he answered. “ When you 
are at liberty, I wish to speak to you.” 

“ Do you ? ” she said. 

She seemed a little unprepared for the 
repressed energy of his manner, which he 


242 


A FAIR BARBARIAN . 


strove to cover by a greater amount of cold 
ness than usual. 

“ Well,” she said, after thinking a moment, 
“ the game will soon be ended. I am going 
through the conservatories with Lord Lans- 
downe in course of time; but I dare say he 
can wait.” 

She went back, and finished her game, 
apparently enjoying it as much as ever. 
When it was over, Barold made his way to 
her. 

He had resented her remaining oblivious 
of his presence when he stood near her, and 
he had resented her enjoyment of her sur¬ 
roundings; and now, as he led her away, 
leaving Lord Lansdowne rather disconsolate, 
he resented the fact that she did not seem 
nervous, or at all impressed by his silence. 

“ What do you want to say to me ? ” she 
asked. “ Let us go and sit down in one of 
the arbors. I believe I am a little tired — 
not that I mind it, though. I’ve been hav¬ 
ing a lovely time.” 

Then she began to talk about Lord Lane- 

iowne. 

“I like him ever so much,” she said 


SOMEBODY ELSE. 


24S 


“ Do you think he will really go to America ? 
I wish he would; but if he does, I hope it 
won’t be for a year or so — I mean, until we 
go back from Europe. Still, it’s rather un¬ 
certain when we shall go back. Did I tell 
you I had persuaded aunt Belinda to travel 
with us? She’s horribly frightened, but I 
mean to make her go. She’ll get over being 
frightened after a little while.” 

Suddenly she turned, and looked at him. 

“Why don’t you say something?” she 
demanded. “ What’s the matter ? ” 

“It is not necessary for me to say any 
thing.” 

She laughed. 

“ Do you mean because I am saying every 
thing myself? Well, I suppose I am. I 
am — awfully happy to-day, and can’t help 
talking. It seems to make the time go.” 

Her face had lighted up curiously. There 
was a delighted excitement in her eyes, puz¬ 
zling him. 

“Are you so fond of your father as all 
that?” 

She laughed again, — a clear, exultant 
laugh. 


244 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“ Yes,” she answered, “ of course I am as 
fond of him as all that. It’s quite natural, 
isn’t it?” 

“I haven’t observed the same degree of 
enthusiasm in all the young ladies of my 
acquaintance,” he returned dryly. 

He thought such rapture disproportionate 
to the cause, and regarded it grudgingly. 

They turned into an arbor; and Octavia 
sat down, and leaned forward on the rustic 
table. Then she turned her face up to look 
at the vines covering the roof. 

“ It looks rather spidery, doesn’t it ? ” she 
remarked. “ I hope it isn’t; don’t you ? ” 

The light fell bewitchingly on her round 
little chin and white throat; and a bar of 
sunlight struck on her upturned eyes, and 
the blonde rings on her forehead. 

“There is nothing I hate more than spi¬ 
ders,” she said, with a little shiver, “ unless,” 
seriously, “ it’s caterpillars — and caterpillars 
I loathe.” 

Then she lowered her gaze, and gave her 
hat — a large white Rubens, all soft, curling 
feathers and satin bows — a charming tip 
over her eyes. 


“SOMEBODY ELSE: 


245 

“ The brim is broad,” she said. “ If any 
thing drops, I hope it will drop on it, instead 
of on me. Now, what did you want to say ? ” 

He had not sat down, but stood leaning 
against the rustic wood-work. He looked 
pale, and was evidently trying to be cooler 
than usual. 

“ I brought you here to ask you a ques¬ 
tion.” 

“Well,” she remarked, “I hope it’s an 
important one. You look serious enough.” 

“ It is important, — rather,” he responded, 
with a tone of sarcasm. “ You will probably 
go away soon ? ” 

“ That isn’t exactly a question,” she com¬ 
mented, “and it’s not as important to you 
as to me.” 

He paused a moment, annoyed because he 
found it difficult to go on; annoyed because 
she waited with such undisturbed serenity. 
But at length he managed to begin again. 

“I do not think you are expecting the 
question I am going to ask,” he said. “I — 
do not think I expected to ask it myself, — 
until to-day. I do not know why — why 1 
should ask it qo awkwardly, and feel — at 


246 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


such a disadvantage. I brought you here to 
ask you — to marry me.” 

He had scarcely spoken four words before 
all her airy manner had taken flight, and 
she had settled herself down to listen. He 
had noticed this, and had felt it quite natu¬ 
ral. When he stopped, she was looking 
straight into his face. Her eyes were singu¬ 
larly large and bright and clear. 

“ You did not expect to ask me to marry 
you ? ” she said. “ Why didn’t you ? ” 

It was not at all what he had expected. 
He did not understand her manner at all. 

“I — must confess,” he said stiffly, “that 
I felt at first that there were — obstacles in 
the way of my doing so.” 

“ What were the obstacles ? ” 

He flushed, and drew himself up. 

“ I have been unfortunate in my mode of 
expressing myself,” he said. “ I told you I 
was conscious of my own awkwardness.” 

“Yes,” she said quietly: “you have been 
unfortunate. That is a good way of putting 
it.” 

Then she let her eyes rest on the table a 
few seconds, and thought a little. 


“SOMEBODY ELSE.’ 


247 


“ After all,” she said, “I have the consola¬ 
tion of knowing that you must have been 
very much in love with me. If you had not 
been very much in love with me, you would 
never have asked me to marry you. You 
would have considered the obstacles.” 

“I am very much in love with you,” he 
said vehemently, his feelings getting the 
better of his pride for once. “ However 
badly I may have expressed myself, I am 
very much in love with you. I have been 
wretched for days.” 

“ Was it because you felt obliged to ask 
me to marry you ? ” she inquired. 

The delicate touch of spirit in her tone 
and words fired him to fresh admiration, 
strange to say. It suggested to him possi¬ 
bilities he had not suspected hitherto. He 
drew nearer to her. 

“Don’t be too severe on me,” he &*id— 
quite humbly, considering all things. 

And he stretched out his hand, as if to 
take hers. 

But she drew it back, smiling ever so 
faintly. 

“Do you think I don’t know what the 


248 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


obstacles are? ' she said. “I will tell 
you.” 

44 My affection was strong enough to sweep 
them away,” he said, 44 or I should not be 
here.” 

She smiled slightly again. 

“I know all about them, as well as you 
do,” she said. 44 1 rather laughed at them at 
first, but I don’t now. I suppose I’m ‘im¬ 
pressed by their seriousness,’ as aunt Belinda 
says. I suppose they are pretty serious — to 
you.” 

“Nothing would be so serious to me as 
that you should let them interfere with my 
happiness,” he answered, thrown back upon 
himself, and bewildered by her logical man¬ 
ner. 44 Let us forget them. I was a fool to 
speak as I did. Won’t you answer my ques¬ 
tion ? ” 

She paused a second, and then answered, — 

“You didn’t expect to ask me to marry 
you,” she said. “ And I didn’t expect yon 
to” — 

“ But now ” — he broke in impatiently 

“Now — I wish you hadn’t done it.” 

M You wish ’ — 


SOMEBODY EL8E. }) 


249 


“You don’t want me” she said. “Yon 
want somebody meeker, — somebody who 
would respect you very much, and obey yon. 
I’m not used to obeying people.” 

“Do you mean also that you would not 
respect me ? he inquired bitterly. 

“ Oh,” she replied, “ you haven’t respected 
me much I ” 

“Excuse me” — he began, in his loftiest 
manner. 

“ You didn’t respect me enough to think 
me worth marrying,” she said. “ I was not 
the kind of girl you would have chosen of 
your own will.” 

“You are treating me unfairly!” he 
cried. 

“You were going to give me a great deal, 
I suppose — looking at it in your way,” she 
went on; “ but, if I wasn't exactly what you 
wanted, I had something to give too. I’m 
young enough to have a good many years to 
live; and I should have to live them with 
you, if I married you. That’s something, 
you know.” 

He rose from his seat pale with wrath and 
wounded feeling. 


260 A FAIR BARBARIAN. 

“ Does this mean that you refuse me ? ” he 
demanded, “ that your answer is 4 no ’ ? ” 

She rose, too — not exultant, not confused, 
neither pale nor flushed. He had never 
seen her prettier, more charming, or more 
natural. 

“It would have been ‘no,’ even if there 
hadn’t been any obstacle,” she answered. 

“Then,” he said, “I need say no more. 
I see that I have — humiliated myself in 
vain; and it is rather bitter, I must confess.” 

“ It wasn’t my fault,” she remarked. 

He stepped back, with a haughty wave of 
the hand, signifying that she should pass out 
of the arbor before him. 

She did so; but just as she reached the 
entrance, she turned, and stood for a second, 
framed in by the swinging vines and their 
blossoms. 

“ There’s another reason why it should be 
‘no,’ she said. “I suppose I may as well 
tell you of it. I’m engaged to somebody 

else.” 


“ JACK . 


161 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

“ JACK.” 

The first person they saw, when they 
reached the lawn, was Mr. Dugald Binnie, 
who had deigned to present himself, and 
was talking to Mr. Burmistone, Lucia, and 
Miss Belinda. 

“I’ll go to them,” said Octavia. “Aunt 
Belinda will wonder where I have been.” 

But, before they reached the group, they 
were intercepted by Lord Lansdowne; and 
Barold had the pleasure of surrendering his 
charge, and watching her, with some rather 
sharp pangs, as she was borne off to the 
conservatories. 

“ What is the matter with Mr. Barold ? ” 
exclaimed Miss Pilcher. “Pray look at 
him.” 

“ Tic has been talking to Miss Octavia 
Bassett, in one of the arbors,” put in Miss 
Lydia Burnham. “Emily and I passed 


m 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


them a few minutes ago, aDd they were se 
absorbed that they did not see us. There is 
no knowing what has happened ” 

“Lydia!” exclaimed Mrs. Burnham, in 
stern reproof of such flippancy. 

But, the next moment, she exchanged a 
glance with Miss Pilcher. 

“ Do you think ” — she suggested. “ Is it 
possible ” — 

“It really looks very like it,” said Miss 
Pilcher; “ though it is scarcely to be 

credited. See how pale and angry he 
looks.” 

Mrs. Burnham glanced toward him, and 
then a slight smile illuminated her counte¬ 
nance. 

“ How furious,” she remarked cheerfully, 
“ how furious Lady Theobald will be ! ” 

Naturally, it was not very long before the 
attention of numerous other ladies was 
directed to Mr. Francis Barold. It was 
observed that he took no share in the festivi¬ 
ties, that he did not regain his natural air of 
enviable indifference to his surroundings, — 
that he did not approach O eta via Bassett 
until all was over, and she was on the point 


JACK.' 


25S 


4>f going hom t. What he said to her then, 
no one heard. 

“ I am going to London to-morrow. Good- 

by" 

“ Good-by,’’she answered, holding out her 
hand to him. Then she added quickly, in 
an under-tone, “ You oughtn’t to think 
badly of me. You won’t, after a while.” 

As they drove homeward, she was rathei 
silent, and Miss Belinda remarked it. 

“I am afraid you are tired, Octavia,” she 
said. “ It is a pity that Martin should come, 
and find you tired.” 

“ Oh! I’m not tired. I was only — think¬ 
ing. It has been a queer day.” 

“ A queer day, my dear! ” ejaculated Miss 
Belinda. “ I thought it a charming day.” 

“ So it has been,” said Octavia, which Miss 
Belinda thought rather inconsistent. 

Both of them grew rather restless as they 
neared the house. 

“To think,” said Miss Belinda, “of my 
seeing poor Martin again ! ” 

“Suppose,” said Octavia nervously, as 
they drew up, “ suppose they are here - 
already.” 


264 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“ They ? ” exclaimed Miss B elinda. “ Wlw ” 
— but she got no farther. A cry burst from 
Octavia, — a queer, soft little cry. 

“They are here,” she said: “they are 
Jack—Jack! ” 

And she was out of the carriage; and Miss 
Belinda, following her closely, was horrified 
to see her caught at once in the embrace of a 
tall, bronzed young man, who, a moment 
after, drew her into the little parlor, and 
shut the door. 

Mr. Martin Bassett, who was big and sun¬ 
burned, and prosperous-looking, stood in the 
passage, smiling triumphantly. 

“ M — M — Martin ! ” gasped Miss Be¬ 
linda. “ What — oh, what does this mean ? ” 

Martin Bassett led her to a seat, and 
smiled more triumphantly still. 

“ Never mind, Belinda,” he said. “ Don’t 
be frightened. It’s Jack Belasys, and he’s 
the finest fellow in the West. And she 
hasn’t seen him for two years.” 

“Martin,” Miss Belinda fluttered, “it is 
not proper — it really isn’t.” 

“ Yes, it is,” answered Mr. Bassett; “ for 
he’s going to marry her before we go abroad.’ 


“JACK.” 


255 


It was an eventful day for all parties con* 
cerned. At its close Lady Theobald found 
herself in an utterly bewildered ami thun¬ 
derstruck condition. And to Mr. Dugald 
Binnie, more than to any one else, her 
demoralization was due. That gentleman 
got into the carriage, in rather a bettei 
humor than usual. 

“ Same man I used to know,” he remarked. 
“ Glad to see him. I knew him as soon as I 
set eyes on him.” 

“Do you allude to Mr Burmistone?” 

“ Yes. Had a long talk with him. He s 
coming to see you to-morrow. Told him h* 
might come, myself. Appears he’s taken 
fancy to Lucia. Wants to talk it ovei 
Suits me exactly, and suppose it suits her. 
Looks as if it does. Glad she hasn’t taken 
a fancy to some haw-haw fellow, like that 
fool Barold. Girls generally do. Burmi- 
stone’s worth ten of him.” 

Lucia, who had been looking steadily out of 
the carriage-window, turned, with an amazed 
expression. Lady Theobald had received a 
shock which made all her manacles rattle. 
She could scarcely support herself under it 


266 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


“ Do I ” — she said. “ Am I to under¬ 
stand that Mr. Francis Barold does not meet 
with your approval ? ” 

Mr. Binnie struck his stick sharply upon 
the floor of the carriage. 

“ Yes, by George! ” he said. “ I’ll have 
nothing to do with chaps like that. If she’d 
taken up with him, she’d never have heard 
from me again. Make sure of that.” 

When they reached Oldclough, her lady¬ 
ship followed Lucia to her room. She stood 
before her, arranging the manacles on her 
wrists nervously. 

“I begin to understand now,” she said. 
“ I find I was mistaken in my impressions of 
Mr. Dugald Binnie’s tastes — and in my im¬ 
pressions of you . You are to marry Mr. 
Burmistone. My rule is over. Permit me 
to congratulate you.” 

The tears rose to Lucia’s eyes. 

“Grandmamma,” she said, her voice soft 
and broken, “I think I should have been 
more frank, if—if you had been kinder 
sometimes.” 

“ I have done my duty by you,” said my 



“ JACK.” 


267 


Lucia looked at her pathetically. 

“ I have been ashamed to keep things from 
you,” she hesitated. “ And I have often told 
myself that — that it was sly to do it — but 
I could not help it.” 

“I trust,” said my lady, “that you will be 
more candid with Mr. Burmistone.” 

Lucia blushed guiltily. 

“I — think I shall, grandmamma,” she 
said. 

It was the Rev. Alfred Poppleton who 
assisted the rector of St. James to marry 
Jack Belasys and Octayia Bassett; and it 
was observed that he was almost as pale as 
his surplice. 

Slowbridge had never seen such a wed¬ 
ding, or such a bride as O eta via. It was 
even admitted that Jack Belasys was a singu 
larly handsome fellow, and had a dashing, 
adventurous air, which carried all before it. 
There was a rumor that he owned silver- 
mines himself, and had even done something 
in diamonds, in Brazil, where he had spent 
the last two years. At all events, it was 
ascertained beyond doubt, that, being at last 
a married woman, and entitled to splendors 


258 


A FAIR BARBARIAN. 


of the kind, Octavia would not lack them. 
Her present to Lucia, who was one of her 
bridesmaids, dazzled all beholders. 

When she was borne away by the train, 
with her father and husband, and Miss 
Belinda, whose bonnet-strings were bedewed 
with tears, the Rev. Alfred Poppleton was 
the last man who shook hands with her. He 
held in his hand a large bouquet, which 
Octavia herself had given him out of her 
abundance. “ Slowbridge will miss you, 
Miss — Mrs. Belasys,” he faltered. “I — I 
shall miss you. Perhaps we — may even 
meet again. I have thought that, perhaps, 
I should like to go to America.” 

And, as the train puffed out of the station 
and disappeared, he stood motionless for 
several seconds; and a large and brilliant 
drop of moisture appeared on the calyx of 
the lily which formed the centre-piece of his 
bouquet. 


THE NOVELS AND STORIES OF 


Frances Hodgson Burnett 

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS, Publishers 


"We have no hesitation in saying that there is no 
living writer (man or woman) who has Mrs. Burnett's 
dramatic power in telling a story ."— N. Y. Herald 


In Connection with 

The De Willoughby Claim 

i2mo. $1.50 

M RS. BURNETT’S new novel is a literary event of the 
highest importance. From first to last one reads on 
with breathless interest of the winning of the great 
claim which was to reinstate good-natured “Big Tom” 
De Willoughby in his birthright. Interwoven with it is the 
story of a woman deceived by the man of whom the world 
would have least expected it, his identity being effectually con¬ 
cealed till the terrible revelation of the dramatic final chapters. 
The fate of the heartless fanatic who stood nearest the loving 
couple, brutal in his loyalty to his idea of the right, has a 
dramatic significance which is intensified in the light of his 
past conduct. 

As if to compensate, however, for the mother’s grief, her 
child survives her; and in this beautiful child-life Mrs. Bur¬ 
nett has added another charming portrait to her gallery of 
juvenile characters. How Tom De Willoughby’s life was 
saved from blackness and desolation and made to overflow 
with happiness—this the reader will learn for himself. 

The tragedy of the story, intensified by the contrast of the 
fanatical New England temper with Southern chivalry and 
kindness, is not its only side. The love between a beautiful, 
romantic child and a strong man who is her protector fills the 
book with a sweetness that matches its dramatic fire. 



NOVELS BY MRS. BURNETT 


The Dawn of a Tomorrow 

Illustrated in Color by F. C. Yohn. i2mo, $1.00. 

“An uncommonly vivid story .”—Boston Advertiser. 

“A touching little tale that carries a sublime truth .”—Detroit Free Bren. 

His Grace of Osmonde 

Being the Portions of that Nobleman’s Life omitted in the Relation 
of his Lady’s Story, presented to the World of Fashion under the 
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“ We have no doubt that it will be read with the same eager interest and 
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A Lady of Quality 

Being a most curious, hitherto unknown history, related to Mr. 
Isaac Bickerstaff, but not presented to the World of Fashion through 
the pages of The Tattler , and now for the first time written down 
by Frances Hodgson Burnett. i2mo, $1.50. 

“The plot is excellent, and an unflagging interest is maintained from the 
first page to the very last .”—The Critic. 


The One I Knew the Best of All 


A Memory of the Mind of a Child. Richly and fully illustrated by 
R. B. Birch. i2mo, handsomely bound, gilt top, $2.00. 

MRS. KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN.-“This ‘Memory of the Mind of a 
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yet it is revealed with such exquisite delicacy and absence of self-consciousness 
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The Pretty Sister of Jose 

With 12 illustrations by C. S. Reinhart. i 2 mo, $1.00. 

“ This proud and self-willed little Spanish beauty, with her fierce scorn of 
all love ana lovers, and her cruel coquetry, is a charming heroine, not unknown 
to us, indeed, by other names in other novels, but abundantly welcome thus 
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The story is swiftly and dramatically told with all the freedom and sureness 
of a skilful outline drawing. Perfectart was necessary to its effective telling.” 

—Batten Advertiser. 




NOVELS BY MRS. BURNETT 


That La^ o’ Lowrie’s 

i2mo, $1.25. 

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Haworth’s 

Illustrated. i2mo, $1.25. 

“ A product of genius of a very high order.”— New York Evening Post. 

“ One of the few great American novels.”— Hartford Courant. 

Through One Administration 

i2mo, $1.50. 

*' As a study of Washington life, dealing largely with what might be called 
social politics, it is certainly a success. As a society novel it is indeed quite 
perfect.”— The Critic. 

Louisiana 

i2mo, $1.25. 

11 A delightful little story, original and piquant in design, and carried out 
with great artistic skill.”— Boston Saturday Evening Gazette. 

A Fair Barbarian 

i2mo, paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

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Surly Tim, and Other Stories 

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“ Uncommonly vigorous and truthful stories of human nature.” 

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Vagabondia: A Love Story 

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Earlier Stories 

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With true art but with deep pathos.”— Boston Post. 



JUVENILES BY MRS. BURNETT 


A Little Princess 

Being the Whole Story of Sara Crewe, now told for the First Time. 
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—Mrs. Margaret E. Sangster. 

Little Lord Fauntleroy 

Beautifully illustrated by R. B. Birch. i2mo, $1.25. 

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with such truth and sweetness that we part from him with real regret.” 

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Sara Crewe and Little Saint Elizabeth 

and Other Stories. Richly and fully illustrated by R. B. Birch. 
121110, $1.25. 

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“ ‘ Little Saint Elizabeth ’ is one of the most winning and pathetic of Mrs. 
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from a lost fairy book, are quite charming.”— The Athenceum. 

Giovanni and the Other 

Children who have made Stories. With 9 full-page illustrations by 

R. B. Birch. i2mo, $1.25. 

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Piccino 

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other stories in the book have the charm of their predecessor in material and 
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